


The Wax and The Figure

by Vinci



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A civilized Thorin?, Bond phases, Fluff, For the most part, M/M, Nightmares, Obliviousness, Sexual Tension, Soul Bond, Stubborness, Thorin and Bilbo are adorable, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 68,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinci/pseuds/Vinci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost all soul bonds are created unintentionally since there is no way of knowing who a person's soul mate is until they have gone through the bond. Regardless, all newly formed bonds go through several phases. These include but are not limited to: The Initial Encounter, Connection, Separation, Need, Excessive Attachment and Sexual Desire. </p>
<p>Since soul bonds are rare, neither Bilbo nor Thorin realize what happens the moment their eyes meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This prologue is merely a way of clarifying the different stages of the bond. I'll put the corresponding stage at the beginning of each chapter. :D

 

Soul bonds were almost always created unintentionally. There was never any way to predict the appearance of one’s soul mate but when those two souls would meet their bond would be instantaneously created, forever entwining their fates for the rest of their lives. It was entirely common for soul mates to not realize that they had a bond at all. However, a newly created bond goes through several stages, some of which that surely raise eyebrows. These stages influence the actions of the two soul mates so subtly that they would have thought that they were doing something of their own accord when in actuality they were being pulled by the strings of their bond.

These stages were common place and happened in each bond. The more soul mates progressed through their bond, the stronger the stages became until they had fully joined, accepting the fact that they were bonded for life. These stages were:

Initial Encounter: When two soul mates first meet, they experience an influx of emotions not entirely their own. These emotions continue to bombard their minds until they were unable to shoulder the pressure, resulting in unconsciousness. It was common for both soul mates to experience this simultaneously.

Connection: Bond mates experience each other’s emotions. However, this experience is quiet and unobtrusive, making it seem like they were feeling their own emotions when they were actually feeling the other’s.

Separation: The soul mates itch for close contact with one another. Soul mates are more agitated when not in the presence of their other half and feel utterly contented when they are near each other.

Contact: Soul mates yearn to have skin to skin contact. While clothed contact provides some form of comfort, this form provides the most. A lack of touch would negatively affect both parties until contact was made. Generally, neither mate notices this closeness.     

Fluctuating Body Temperature: The hormonal imbalance experienced from a new bond creates instability in bodily temperature. Temperatures shift between extremely hot and extremely cold quickly between the partners, almost simulating a fever or hypothermia.

Need: A more intense form of Contact, Need is the period in which skin to skin contact is almost required at all times. Desperation overtakes the soul mates and they feel the need to remain in contact with one another. Most bond mates involuntarily express the desire to touch the other and at this point many bonds become discovered.     

Excessive Attachment: Seen as a stronger form of Contact and Separation, Excessive Attachment is characterized by the sudden desire to be almost joined at the hip. It is normally not recommended to try to separate the soul mates during this phase due to the risk of being harmed by either party.

Sexual Desire: Nuff said

Wholeness: The final stage of a newly developed bond, wholeness is the feeling of complete and utter peace. By this time, the two souls have been joined together fully, allowing any holes within either to seem almost trivial.

And the first of these stages is experienced when steely blue meets soft cerulean as the door to Bag End is slowly swung open.   


	2. Initial Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Initial Encounter: When two soul mates first meet, they experience an influx of emotions not entirely their own. These emotions continue to bombard their minds until they were unable to shoulder the pressure, resulting in unconsciousness. It was common for both soul mates to experience this simultaneously.

It was safe to say that Bilbo fainted twice that day. It wasn’t of his own accord of course. The day had become a little too much to handle and he supposed he just shut down. He felt it necessary to mention here that he wasn’t the kind of person who fainted all willy-nilly and he certainly didn’t enjoy it. The first time he fainted was because of talk of dragons and _incineration_ and deaths and “Smaug the Terrible.” The second time…well…he didn’t really know why he passed out. Perhaps it was due to the incredible trauma he went through as he watched dwarves raid his food supply or a follow up to the first time.

Regardless, he knew one thing. It was all Gandalf’s fault. Had he not come to his door step spouting words of adventure and gold, Bilbo would have resumed his perfectly normal life of tending to his garden and reading his books by the fire. Gandalf certainly would not have marked his door with that ludicrous symbol and he would not have led a company of thirteen dwarves to his door. Or, perhaps, Gandalf would have done that anyway. That man worked mysteriously, almost omnisciently.

So, as the grey wizard tried—and failed—to calm his worries and as dwarves ran about his house flinging plates like they were Frisbees, his doorbell rung for the umpteenth time. The look that spread across the wise man’s face sent shivers down Bilbo’s spine, paralleling the seriousness that had befallen the once merry company of barbaric dwarves crowding around his dinner table.

“He is here.” Gandalf’s surly voice commanded the room with a sort of foreboding eeriness that made Bilbo really wish he wouldn’t open the door.

But when he did, he felt the air rush from his lungs. Long dark hair mixed with tendrils of grey framed around a sturdy and equally hardened face. A duo of steely blue eyes seemed to dig into Bilbo’s soul like a jagged knife, forcing whatever words he had at his tongue down his throat. It almost seemed like the figure before him was purely made from darkness. Behind him, the night sky virtually wrapped around him like a cloak, curling around him protectively and shrouding him in a mystery that Bilbo surely wanted to solve.

A flurry of emotions blazed from within his heart, spreading across his body and causing his lips to tremble. Happiness. Sadness. Joy. Confusion. Fear. Shock. Peace. Hope. Courage. Longing. Love? Pride. Dread. Rage. Pensiveness. Embarrassment. Bliss. Greed. All these emotions bombarded him at once. His thoughts were short. Brief. Fleeting. Almost desperate as he tried to ground himself. They all focused around the figure standing before him who seemed almost in a trance as well.

His legs threatened to give out from under him but he had a feeling that the dwarf standing just outside his door would be there to catch him, to wrap his arms around him and never let go. He wanted to know his name. He wanted to hear the words against his lips so that he could repeat them slowly, wrap his tongue around each letter and give his heart out to him. He wanted to engrave the dwarf’s name in his bones, in his soul. He wanted to…to…

Gandalf cleared his throat awkwardly beside Bilbo and the world came crashing down on his shoulders. Bag End. Twelve other dwarves. A wizard staring rather curiously at him. The night air pooling at his ankles. He was here in the Shire. He took in a sharp breath and gathered up enough of his spilled composure to keep from staggered backwards as he moved away.

The dwarf had blinked away whatever stupor he was in and stepped into the house as the other dwarves loyally circled around him. He shrugged his fur coat off and handed it to someone—Kili maybe— as his stormy eyes fell back onto the hobbit.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” He said with a slight bow.

_Thorin_. _Thorin. Thorin._ Bilbo’s emotions threatened to explode again as he wrapped his fingers around the deep, low, rumble that escaped from his lips. His voice threaded through his body, sliding against his heart and forcing it into an erratic rhythm.

“Bilbo…Bilbo Baggins,” He managed to say.

“So,” Thorin’s eyes danced over his small frame and he instantly felt self-conscious. “This must be the Halfling. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

That statement hurt more than it should have and the added snickers from behind him didn’t help. Gandalf patted his shoulder comfortingly as he and the rest of the dwarves filed into the kitchen. Bilbo stood uneasily behind Thorin, feeling as though he shouldn’t be hearing whatever they were going to say but Gandalf’s soft smile kept him still.

Their conversation flitted past him. Talk of a land known as Erebor and the Lonely Mountain slid over him even as his own involvement was brought into the mix. He didn’t even have a chance to defend himself before Gandalf shook the room with his booming voice. Then, their conversation resumed like nothing had ever happened. Raised voices and cheers echoed around the table as Thorin made a short speech about how they could take back Erebor, their homeland. And through this conversation, the hobbit found out he was a king. _A king_. King Under The Mountain.  

Bilbo followed dreamily until the attention around the table turned to him. He blinked as a contract was shoved into his face and listened to the dwarf with the strange hat rattle on about a dragon known as Smaug. His gut lurched with the sudden images of fire and brimstone falling from the sky and the city of Dale crumbling beneath a scaly creature. As much as he wanted him to stop speaking, Bofur spared no details as he spoke of Smaug’s wrath and power, the other dwarves nodding thoughtfully at his words.

Bilbo unfolded the contract and had his breath knocked out of him for the second time that night. Lacerations? _Incineration?_ At that moment, his emotions erupted deep within his belly. His thoughts swarmed with death and destruction as fear and terror draped over him. He barely noticed Thorin stiffen in front of him as he began to sway. He was bombarded by a flurry of emotions again, pressing down on his shoulders and weakening his knees.

He finally succumbed to the pressure and passed out.

* * *

 

Bilbo awoke to a warm cup of tea being shoved in his face. Gandalf’s eyes twinkled as he took a seat across from him and he fixed him with an inquisitive gaze that barely hid his amusement. Bilbo took a hesitant sip of the drink as he cast his eyes over his reading room. His fireplace was ablaze with a tempered fire that contrasted the immense feeling of cold chilling his bones. He could faintly hear some of the dwarves in the other room talking rather loudly to one another about the importance of a good breakfast and he didn’t try to suppress a roll of his eyes.

“I won’t go on this adventure, Gandalf.” He said firmly.

“Bilbo, my boy,” The wizard sighed. “Do you really think that this is the only life for you? When did your plates and mother’s doilies become some important? I remember a young boy going out into the forest to try to catch elves once.”

“That was a long time ago, Gandalf. I am a Baggins of Bag End.”

“But you are also a Took!”

“I can’t—”

Their conversation was stopped abruptly when a chorus of dwarves let out several surprised interjections and the scuffling of boots echoed against the floorboards. Gandalf stood suddenly and exited the room, leaving the hobbit to sit awkwardly against the roar of dwarves. Bilbo drummed his fingers against his cup nervously but stuttered when a queasy feeling fell over him. He shook it off as a loud voice cut through the erratic chatter like a knife.

“Enough!” Thorin’s low timbre rattled against the walls and Bilbo couldn’t help but repeat his voice in his head. “I’m fine.”

Gandalf soon returned and answered his confused expression with, “Apparently, Thorin had staggered slightly and nearly fell over. Thankfully, Dwalin was there to catch him.”

“Oh,” Bilbo replied with a bit of too much emotion. “Is he alright?”

“He claims to be. I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. It’s nothing to worry about, my boy.” Gandalf smiled. The hobbit couldn’t fight the relief that flooded through his veins. “Now, back to our previous conversation…”

Bilbo frowned as he quickly stood up. “I am not going on this adventure. There is nothing you can say to change my mind and that is final.”

He stormed away from the wizard and escaped into the quiet of his room. Confound that wizard! Did he honestly expect Bilbo to just stop everything he was doing and rush off with a bunch of strangers? Any sensible person could see how ludicrous that was. He needed prior preparation to even think about going with them for an uncertain amount of time. He needed someone to look after his garden, his house, and his belongings. Gandalf was a wanderer. He couldn’t possibly understand the fathoms of sedentary life.

Bilbo settled on his bed with a deflated sigh. He had to admit that part of him wanted to go with the dwarves. It was mostly the Took in him that longed for adventure. He was also reluctant to admit that he would have liked to get to know Mr. Thorin Oakenshield more. His first impression of him was an excessive amount of stoicism and a reserved attitude that pushed people away. However, there was also something in the darkness of his eyes. Something interesting. Something Bilbo wouldn’t mind finding out.

“ _Far over the misty mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away ere break of day_

_To find our long forgotten gold…_ ”

Bilbo felt his heart flutter at the sound of Thorin’s voice vibrating throughout the halls. He felt another surge of emotion that caused his head to ache excruciatingly. The song sung seemed so familiar but he was very much sure that this had been the first time he heard it. Regardless, it seemed like it was sung to him after long lost battles or to small children as they tried to slumber. His entire body shook with the intensity of the song, trembling his fingers and lips. He wrapped his arms around his chest to steady himself but the song merely reverberated stronger against his eardrums.

There it was again. Happiness. Sadness. Joy. Confusion. Fear. Shock. Peace. Hope. Courage. Longing. Love? Pride. Dread. Rage. Pensiveness. Embarrassment. Bliss. Greed. Shame. Excitement. His mind struggled to contain the erratic emotions as they circled around him, wrapping around his throat and tightening. He felt his lungs collapse into themselves as the blood rushed from his head. The world around him darkened from his vision, shrouding him in a blind darkness that reminded him of the King Under The Mountain’s deep voice echoing against the walls. The persistent emotions scratched at his soul, desperate to get in, desperate to pull him somewhere, somewhere he would have surely followed.

It finally became too much and he fell against his bed, unconscious. Almost moments later, the loud shouts of dwarves and a wizard shattered the brief moment of peace as Thorin hit the ground as well.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo first noticed the silence. His eyes slowly slid open as he sat up. He had expected the dwarves to be making a fuss about a lack of breakfast on the table. Perhaps he had woken up before them? No. He would have heard their loud snores if he did. Confused, he stood and exited his room. His house was completely deserted and almost eerily quiet. He smiled softly to himself until he reached the kitchen. He bit his lip when he spotted his contract lazily thrown upon the table.

It was at that moment he noticed the strange ache in his chest. It felt akin to hollowness or emptiness. Something felt missing, something important, something he _needed_. It also felt like a gentle pull, pushing him towards the door, towards an adventure. He took in a deep breath before grabbing the contract, packing his things, and running out of Bag End.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've enjoyed this chapter! I certainly did. :D


	3. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connection:Bond mates experience each other’s emotions. However, this experience is quiet and unobtrusive, making it seem like they were feeling their own emotions when they were actually feeling the other’s.

Bilbo didn’t know what to expect when he joined the dwarves in their effort to retake Erebor. Well, he had expected more…adventure. They had been on the road for the last few days and nothing exciting, besides Bombur falling off of his horse, had happened. Granted, Bilbo enjoyed the smooth sailing as much as Balin and Gandalf did but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was _too_ smooth. Something had to happen. Something needed to happen or Bilbo’s rising paranoia would continue to rise until something did in fact happen. It seemed rather odd that they hadn’t encountered anything yet.

Bilbo sighed and shook the feeling away, deciding to humor Bofur with a conversation. He quite enjoyed the pointy-hatted dwarf. He seemed the more sensible of the group besides Balin and perhaps Thorin. Everyone else either enjoyed messing with one another or being the loudest of the bunch. Bofur, on the other hand, liked the simple things in life and was fine with being normal.

Bilbo’s eyes involuntarily flickered to Thorin at the head of the group who was quietly conversing with Dwalin and Balin. Rolling his shoulders, he let out a sigh and unbeknown to the hobbit he mirrored his exact actions. He knew Thorin was probably asking Balin which path to Erebor would be the fastest. He had learned quickly from Bofur that Thorin easily got lost which always brought a smile to his face. Big, bad, Thorin Oakenshield had no sense of direction.

Regardless of these small snippets of information, Bilbo really didn’t know what to make of Thorin. The few words that passed between the two were usually short and Thorin’s words to him mostly consisted of commands. However, he would sometimes find the king smiling softly to himself or staring dreamily into the distance. He was an enigma wrapped up in a tough exterior. Bilbo so wanted to crack the shell.

“Bilbo?” Bofur’s voice tore him from his thoughts, finally making him remember that he was actually _talking_ to the dwarf.

“Oh, sorry.” He smiled. “What were you saying?”

“You had asked about my toy making.” He reminded with a raised brow.

“Right!” Bilbo replied with a clap of his hands, soon realizing said hands needed to be on the reigns of a horse. “Did you by chance bring any along?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. I am working on one at the moment though. It passes the time when we aren’t on the road.”

Bofur slipped a paper covered mound from his coat and handed it to Bilbo. He unfolded the wrapping and found a small block of wood carved with intricate symbols within it. He didn’t recognize the letters written against its sides but it may have been because it wasn’t written in the common tongue. He trailed his finger across the curve of the letters before handing it back to the toy maker with a wide smile.

“It looks lovely. What is it supposed to be?”

“It’ll be a wagon. I remember seeing extravagant wagons like this when I was a child. They were always embroidered with some of the most complicated designs I’ve ever seen. They were marvelous.”

“I wish I could see one.” Bilbo mused with a tilt of his head.  

“Aye,” Bofur paused. “They stopped coming around after Erebor fell.”

“I see.” Bilbo looked away thoughtfully before asking, “Do—”

Thorin’s loud rumble cut through his words like a dagger to his throat. “We’ll camp here for the night.”

The train of horses slowed to a stop as Thorin dismounted. Bilbo couldn’t help but follow his movements with a keen interest, watching him run his hand through his pony’s hair before leading it away. Bilbo let out a sigh as he stepped off of his horse, fingers curling tightly around the reigns as he followed Thorin’s pony. The group had decided to rest at a cliff’s edge overlooking a vast amount of forest. Bilbo would have gazed off of the side but he would rather not have accidentally fallen over and become the first death of the journey.

The sun was sliding down the horizon, giving way to the moon’s lush shine as the stars drifted into view. The firelight from Gloin’s quick work mingled with the air and sheltered the camp with a soft red glow, warmly reminding Bilbo of him curled by the fire of Bag End reading a marvelous piece of literature. If Bilbo squinted hard enough, the camp would have looked like his home.

“Why are you smiling, Uncle?” Kili asked curiously, drawing Bilbo’s eyes towards the king and his nephews.

“Am I not allowed to smile?” Thorin countered almost exasperatedly as he shrugged his fur coat off.

“No,” Fili answered with a glance at his brother. “It’s just weird when you do.”

“Thanks,” He said through his teeth and Bilbo had to suppress a giggle as Thorin fixed his relatives with a bone chilling glare.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo turned on his bed roll for the fiftieth time before sitting up abruptly. To distract himself from his racing thoughts, he focused his eyes on his companions. The soft glow of the fire illuminated the already bright faces of Fili and Kili as they quietly conversed with one another, Bofur, Gloin, and Nori occasionally joined in whenever they had something to say. The rest of the company, excluding Balin, Dwalin and Gandalf, were fast asleep. Though, Thorin was merely sitting up against a rock with his eyes closed. He appeared to be asleep but he also appeared ready to strike at anyone who came near him so Bilbo didn't know whether he was sleeping or merely on...standby.

His dark curls spilled over his shoulders like a black waterfall against a cliff. His eyebrows were tensely drawn together, mirroring the stiffness of his fingers as they twitched ever so slightly. A heavyset frown lingered against his lips, making Bilbo’s slide downward as well. It took everything the hobbit could muster to keep himself from drawing his thumb over the dwarf’s tense mouth, wiping away the scowl that made him look ten times older.

Instead, Bilbo stood up and gathered an apple into his trembling hands. He strolled over to his horse, Myrtle, who snorted quietly at his approach. He smiled softly to her as he fed her the apple, gently dragging his hand across her back.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one having trouble sleeping.” He sighed quietly. “Granted, I don’t know how difficult it is to fall asleep standing up so…there’s that.”

Myrtle nudged Bilbo in the ribs with her nose, eliciting a laugh from the hobbit.

“So, it _is_ hard to sleep standing up? Or am I misinterpreting your rather hard tap of my waistcoat? Because I would very much like to…to…”

The words were lost to him as a sudden feeling of dread flooded into his senses. His lips trembled from the random burst of terror sliding around beneath his skin, chilling his bones and heart. His knees shook from the weight of it all, fingers tightening painfully around Myrtle’s hair beneath his palm. The horse whined in discomfort but her opinion floated away from him like a winter’s breeze, unwelcomed and brief.

Bilbo’s lips parted. Why? Why? Did he want to say something? Did he want to scream? Squeezing his eyes shut, he could practically _see_ the emotions sliding into his mind, hammering against his skull. He fell to his knees as he finally released Myrtle from his deathly grip. She scampered away from him and he wanted to apologize, wanted to soothe her fears but he found his own unwavering. He didn’t even know why he was so scared all of a sudden.

Something was going to happen. He just knew it. The anticipation seared against his skin like a cattle prod laced with the fires of Hell. He needed to tell the others. He needed to tell them to prepare for…whatever was coming. He wanted to tear the air from his lungs as he screamed out a warning, brace them for an attack he felt writhing against his bones.

But then it was gone.

He felt a thousand times lighter. His shoulders ached from the sudden release of pressure but he felt ok. Stability had returned to his senses, bringing him upward with newly strengthened legs. He took in several deep breaths to calm his racing thoughts but found that his mind was clear, steady. Like nothing had ever happened. He touched his heart and found it was still thumping dangerously fast against his chest but it was manageable. Whatever fear or terror he had previously was gone, like it was all just a dream.

Or, perhaps, a nightmare in Thorin’s case.

Bilbo slowly made his way back over to the group and caught the eye of Gandalf who was gazing at him rather intently as he took a few puffs from his pipe. He regarded him with a small nod before turning away. Bilbo felt like he should tell the wizard about what had just happened, about what was happening to him. These sudden lapses into intense emotion were not normal. He didn’t know whether he had caught an illness or was perhaps going insane. The night the dwarves came to Bag End drained him mentally and now he felt equally as drained as before.

He opened his mouth to say the wizard's name but was stopped by the howl of what sounded like wolves in the distance. He gulped nervously before turning to the rest of the company asking, “What was that?”

“Orcs,” Kili said with wide eyes. Thorin startled beside them, blinking away whatever bleary sleep he had managed.

“Oh, yes. They come in the night finding groups of people crowded around fires and striking when they least expect it.” Fili added menacingly.

Then, the two brothers shared a look and burst into laughter. Bilbo frowned as he shook his head at the boys, angry at the fact that they would make light of something like that.

“You think orc packs are funny?” Thorin roared heavily. The brothers flinched away from his unnerving glare as he stood to full height.

“We…we meant nothing by it.” Kili said weakly but Thorin’s hardened gaze was unmoving.

“No, you didn’t. You know nothing of the world.” He growled as he stalked off to where Bilbo had previously been.

“Don’t mind him, lad.” Balin sighed stepping towards them. “Thorin has more cause than most to hate the orcs.”

As Balin retold the Battle of Azanulbizar, it sent shivers down Bilbo’s spine. His words neatly painted the picture of orcs and dwarves battling recklessly at the base of the mines of Moria. The stench of blood, sweat, and tears swarmed Bilbo’s senses as though he was there trying to retake the mountain with Balin. He felt the sun beating down his neck, settling against his shoulders like an unwanted burden, fingers curled tightly around a sword. Dwarves around him dropped like ants. Their numbers were thinning.

The blood sliding down his face obscured his vision, blurring it as though he were looking through a red glass. His ears picked up the loud roar of Azog bellowing out a cry of triumph. He strained to see the pale orc amongst the dying dwarves and caught sight of him holding a dwarven head high above him. It didn’t take him long to realize whose it was.

Blind anger consumed him, erasing rationality and replacing it with pure, unadulterated rage. He charged—

Bilbo was taken from his vision with a sudden loss of balance. He had somehow managed to sit himself down during Balin’s tale but that hadn’t stopped him from nearly falling backwards. He took in a deep breath as he shook the images out of his head, fixing his gaze on Thorin as the dwarf slowly turned around. He was met with the wide eyes of the rest of the company, nearly breathless with disbelief. Bilbo couldn’t blame them.

“And the pale orc,” He croaked out. “What happened to him?”

“He slunk back into the hole he came from, dying of his wounds.” Thorin hissed slowly making his way through the motionless dwarves.

And Bilbo felt he could go to sleep easier that night, learning that that monstrous creature was dead.

 

* * *

 

But he didn’t.

Fire. Darkness. Death. Destruction. His mind raced with the images of the Battle of Azanulbizar, flitting past him like an unfunny puppet show. He struggled to will the dreams away but with his resistance came more disturbing images. The former king’s head rolling down the hill. Dismembered dwarves. A rage filled Thorin. A pale orc arm. An oaken branch. 

“Master Baggins,” A soft voice at his ear stilled him momentarily. He pushed it away as another flurry of images pounded at his eyes. “Bilbo!”

He was shaken awake, immediately staring into concerned blue eyes. It was a dream. It was only a dream.

He took in a deep breath as the world around him returned. The sky was still blackened by night and the lack of a fire told him that they were nowhere near day yet. The gentle hand at his shoulder was a comforting force that willed away all of his previous endeavors. He lifted his own and covered it almost desperately to try to ground himself. He forced himself to focus only on the dwarf kneeling above him.

“T…Thorin?” He whispered unsure.

“You were having a nightmare.” He replied, low.

“Oh,” He gulped. “Was I that bad?”

“I’ve had worse.” He said dismissively as he slid his hand away. Bilbo immediately wished for it back.

Thorin stood up and walked past him. Bilbo almost scampered after him but decided to slowly sit up instead. His head was aching with the tension from the nightmare and he rubbed at his temples harshly. When that did nothing, he turned around to see where Thorin had gone. He had settled himself at the cliff’s edge, legs dangling off of it precariously.

Bilbo bit his lip as he tempted to sit beside him. He didn’t know if he should. He didn’t know if he even had the right. Thorin looked like he wanted to be alone but Bilbo also wanted to talk to him. He _needed_ to. Regardless, he wouldn’t be going back to sleep any time soon so he might as well make the most of things.

He stood up quietly, tiptoeing past Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur. After a quiet second of awkward contemplation, he sat himself down beside the king leaving just enough room between them that their knees weren’t touching. Thorin didn’t seem to mind him sitting so close to him so that encouraged him to remain where he was. The dwarf’s tense eyes were gazing pensively out at the forest below them, unaffected by the height they were at. Bilbo pointedly reminded himself to not look over the edge lest he wanted his entire dinner to join the trees.

“So…” Bilbo couldn’t help but feel the awkwardness in the air. “You have nightmares too?”

Thorin’s steely blues regarded him for a moment before saying, “Not recently, no.”

“I’m not one to normally get nightmares. I don’t really have anything nightmare material. My life is rather plain. Not that I don’t like my life. I would rather not have nightmares for the rest of my days though. I mean, nightmares happen to the best of us. We can’t—”

Thorin shushed his rambling with a simple question. “What was it about?”

“You,” Bilbo mentally cursed his Tookish brain. “I-I mean the Battle of Az…Azanulbizar.”

If his terrible pronunciation of the word had fazed the dwarf, Thorin made no point of mentioning it. He tilted his head slightly, braids falling over his shoulder effortlessly. “Why?”

“…I don’t really know. I suppose Balin’s words got to me.” He laughed quietly. “It must have been hard for you.”

Thorin hummed softly. “It wasn’t relatively easy. We were scattered and under constant distress. I could barely catch my breath before another orc came at me. I trusted in Dwalin and Balin to hold their own but my grandfather…”

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut as the image of a beheaded Thrór sizzled into his mind. His headache returned in full force, hitting against him like a black hammer. Warm fingers touched his temple gently, making small circles that soothed away the pain. He sighed into the welcoming pressure before letting his eyes flutter open. Thorin’s cobalt gaze sent shivers down his spine as he regarded him with a softness Bilbo never knew he could muster.

His eyes quickly returned to their normally unreadable, glassy state as he took his hand away and whatever moment they had shared was over just like that.

“And you?” Bilbo’s voice was thick with something he couldn’t put his finger on. “What are your nightmares about?”

The king blinked at him for a quiet instance before replying with, “It varies. I try not to dwell on them.”

Bilbo looked away thoughtfully as he said, “That means you have a lot.”

“More than most, according to Balin,” Thorin responded with a sigh, briefly threading his fingers through his dark hair.

Bilbo watched the motion with intense interest, momentarily forgetting what he was going to say. “I…”

“They’re under control for the most part. I won’t say that they are milder but they are less frequent. I suppose that is something to be happy about though my nephews tend to say that I am rarely happy.” He added with a frown.

Bilbo scooted closer and rested his hand over Thorin’s in his lap. The dwarf-king stiffened considerably but relaxed into the touch, twisting his hand so that he could entwine their fingers together. His much larger hand nearly consumed the hobbit’s but Bilbo found that it was a nice feeling being engulfed in the dwarf’s warmth.

“You show happiness differently.” He smiled. “They’re probably teasing you. They know when you’re happy.”

“Oh?” Thorin hummed. “How?”

“They can probably see it in your eyes.” The dwarf-king turned towards him rather abruptly and he was fixed with a squinted gaze. “There are some things you can’t hide, your highness.”

“Thorin,” He corrected automatically.

“Thorin,” Bilbo smiled. He squeezed his hand and added, “I don’t think it’s bad. It’s a way to show that you’re not heartless, that you actually do care.”

Thorin remained silent for a long moment and the hobbit had to actually make sure he wasn’t confirming his earlier suspicion of the ease of falling asleep sitting or standing up. However, the dwarf was merely staring down at their joined hands rather blankly as though they weren’t there at all. A soft sigh escaped his lips as his gaze finally returned to the hobbit.

“It’s best for us to sleep now. I would rather not have either of us not at our full potential due to a lack of sleep.” He said in a low rumble that sent shivers down Bilbo’s spine.

The dwarf-king slipped away from the hobbit and retired to his bedroll. Bilbo had already missed his warmth the moment he took his hand away.

 

* * *

 

Thorin liked to say that he was an attentive person, perhaps more attentive than most. He noticed many things over the years, things that would flit by the average person. For example, he noticed that after their heated argument about the dwarf’s choice in campsites, Gandalf had stormed away into the direction of Rivendell. He had noticed that Kili left his bow by the campfire as he tended the horses and that Fili had forgotten to put his coat back on after dismounting his horse. So, when Bofur had given Bilbo two bowls of food to give to Fili and Kili, he watched him disappear into the forest.

It wasn’t that Thorin had taken an interest in Bilbo’s tasks. He was simply already looking in that direction by the time the hobbit had been given the order.

Thorin suppressed a roll of his eyes as Dwalin approached with two bowls of soup in his hands. He gave one to him and he nodded in thanks. The bald dwarf settled down next to him, clapping him on the back hard.

“How are you today, Thorin?” He asked politely as though he hadn’t just nearly made the king spill his food.

“Fine,” He said shortly, eyes drifting towards the woods again.

“You and I both know you’re not. You can’t lie to me.” He said sternly. “Nightmares?”

“Nothing to report, captain.” Thorin drawled as he took a sip of his soup.

“You’re not getting much sleep.” The tattooed dwarf stated accusingly.

“And what gives you that idea?”

“Ever since we’ve been on our journey, you haven’t been sleeping at the same time as us. You pretend that you do but I know that you wait around until everyone’s fallen asleep to get up to wander around. When I was on watch last night, I saw you conversing with our burglar and _not_ sleeping.”

“I don’t need a guardian angel.” The king hissed.  

“No need for the snarky attitude,” He sighed. “You need to be checked on periodically or you…”

“Or I what?” Thorin glared, almost daring Dwalin to finish that sentence.

“You lose yourself.”

The dwarf-king snorted and put his spoon down. “Dwalin, I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” He mumbled into his soup.

Before Thorin could make a retort, his hand began to tremble. He looked down at it curiously as his heartbeat sped up. He furrowed his brow in confusion but his face soon contorted oddly as he tried to figure out what emotion he was feeling. _Nervous_? Why was he feeling nervous?

He placed his bowl on the ground as he stood up, pacing around the small broken house. This was a feeling he shouldn’t ignore. He wasn’t really one for superstition but there were some moments where you just had to follow your instincts. And his instincts were directing him towards the woods. He didn’t pause to answer some of the other dwarves questions as he rushed across the grass.

He emerged to see Kili and Fili hurriedly eating their soup with anxious brows, so engrossed in their food that they didn’t notice his arrival. However, _he_ noticed there was a sever lack of 16 ponies and a certain hobbit.

He narrowed his eyes as he approached them, almost barking out, “Where is Bilbo?”

The young dwarves jumped as they quickly shushed him. Fili, the braver of the two, came forward saying, “We may have a…slight problem.”

“Oh?” He said humorlessly crossing his arms.

His mood darkened considerably with each word that left Fili’s mouth. They had discovered trolls nearby and, without telling their illustrious leader, sent Bilbo to retrieve their stolen horses.

“You see, he’s small,”

“And light on his feet!” Kili added.

“We thought he’d be ok?” With the upward inflection in Fili’s voice, he knew they hadn’t thought at all when they made this decision.

“And is he?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“I…well…”

“Kili, lead me to the trolls. Fili, go and get the others.” He said sharply.

Without any hesitation, Fili scampered away and Kili silently headed towards a faint light hidden beneath the trees. Their trek was silent, mostly because of the intense glare digging into Kili’s back. The ominous aura being emitted from his uncle didn’t encourage casual conversation so he kept his mouth shut.

The sound of trolls arguing about completely mundane things littered into the air, slowing Thorin’s movements to those that rivalled a predator’s. He and Kili lingered at the edge of the troll camp, watching as Bilbo hurriedly and frantically tried to dissuade the large beasts from thinking he was a burglar. A protective instinct swelled within Thorin’s bones, nearly propelling him forward to stand in front of the hobbit. He pushed down the feeling in favor of a more calculated one even though he would rather burst into the camp and kill the trolls.

Bilbo was scampering around, avoiding dirty claws as he tried to elude them. They took ahold of him and examined him thoroughly, breathing out suggestions as to how to eat him. Before he could stop his nephew, Kili emerged from the forest cutting down the first troll he saw and demanding them to release the hobbit. Thorin let out an exasperated sigh as he drew his own sword. The loud chatter of his companions behind him meant that Fili had completed his task.

He and the rest of the company bounded from the trees as Bilbo was thrown at Kili. He swiftly caught him, tumbling to the ground hard but both men were intact. Thorin found Dwalin in the throng, pressing his back to his as they sliced and cut at the trolls’ fat ankles. When he wasn’t moving about the feet of the beasts, his eyes were searching for Bilbo somewhere in the pack.

He struggled to find him and mentally cursed his small hobbit frame. He stopped when a wave of panic crashed over him like a boot to the head. He turned to find each of Bilbo’s limbs held by a troll. The creatures were smiling smugly as they shook the hobbit slightly. 

“Lay down your arms or we’ll rip his off.” One of them growled.

Thorin met Bilbo’s wide eyes. He took in a deep breath as more panic crept into his bones. He stilled his emotions as he threw his sword down. His companions followed albeit more reluctantly and they struggled minimally as half of them were stuffed into sacks and the others tied to a spit. A fire blazed from beneath them and Thorin had to steel himself before a wave of incoherent emotions would rip through him again. This wasn't the time to be emotionally unstable again. He needed to focus. 

Suddenly, Bilbo leapt up from the ground, engaging the trolls in a conversation about cooking and momentarily stilling their hands. Thorin couldn’t hide his confusion as the hobbit deliberately made their situation worse. When one of the trolls picked up Bombur and threatened to eat him, he knew he needed to do something before his friend was killed. However, Bilbo beat him to the punch by saying that the dwarves had parasites. His idiotic nephew and Oin, who could barely hear anything, soon refuted his claim, spurring the others into a roar of disapproval.

With a firm kick to Kili’s back, the conversation was moved in favor of Bilbo as Gandalf finally saved them.

 

* * *

 

“If either of you go behind my back again, I will not hesitate to remove you from this journey and return you to your mother.” Thorin said sternly as he eyed his nephews rigidly.

“Yes, Uncle.” They said in unison, heads down with nervous hands.

“You both know that I do not say this lightly. You need to understand that we aren’t in the Blue Mountains anymore. This is no game. It’s best you start realizing this.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

He waved them away with a heavy hand and sighed as Gandalf approached him. What did the wizard want _now_? He wasn't in the mood to deal with his antics. 

“Where did you go, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“To look ahead,” He smiled wickedly.

“What brought you back?”

“Looking behind.”

Thorin was tempted to just throw his hands into the air and storm away from Gandalf’s vague answers but he stayed his ground. Crossing his arms, his eyes strayed towards the hobbit who was staring blankly at the forest they had just been in. He was so engrossed in the Halfling that he barely heard Gandalf mention that there should be a cave nearby that the trolls used to come down from the mountains.

The king met Dwalin’s eyes and nodded towards the cave. The gruff dwarf grumbled out a reply as he led the rest of the dwarves into the dark tunnel. Thorin meant to follow them in but was stopped by a small hand at his arm. He turned around curiously to find Bilbo looking down at the ground with a furrowed brow.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

“For what?”

“Saving my life,” He smiled.

“I should be thanking you.” Thorin said as the hobbit lifted his gaze from the ground and met his eyes. “You bought us time.”

“It wasn’t anything special. I mean, I did it rather poorly.”

“But you saved us,” He placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “That’s all that matters.”

“I suppose so.” Bilbo smiled softly but it did not meet his eyes.

“What is the matter? Are you hurt?” Thorin tried and failed to hide the concern from his voice.

The hobbit quickly shook his head. “No. I just…”

“Bilbo,”

“It was scary.” He whispered with a chocked laugh.

Thorin ran his thumb down Bilbo’s cheek as he said, “You’re ok now. It’s over. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Is it weird that I believe you?” He smiled shakily.

“No,” And this time Thorin returned his grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, Thorin and Bilbo, it's like you were meant for each other. 
> 
> Sorry this chapter was really long. I was smushing so much into this. I don't expect this story to be more than 15 or so chapters. 
> 
> I hope you could see the interweaving of their emotions clearly in this chapter. it was kind of awkward keeping either boy from realizing they weren't feeling their own emotion. *le sigh*


	4. Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separation: The soul mates itch for close contact with one another. Soul mates are more agitated when not in the presence of their other half and feel utterly contented when they are near each other.

Bilbo was glad he had already been standing beside Thorin the moment Radagast had emerged from the trees. He would never admit that it had scared the living daylights out of him when the brown wizard had flown at them in a sled pulled by rabbits _or_ that he had hidden behind the dwarf-king like he would protect him from whatever danger they were about to be in. He would never admit that. Though, it may or may not have been true.

Thorin merely gave him an amused smile that also may or may not have warmed his little hobbit heart. After discovering that Radagast was Gandalf’s companion, the king left to go discuss something with Dwalin, leaving Bilbo to chat quietly to Ori and Bofur. The younger dwarf was quickly scribbling into his journal as the toymaker thoroughly detailed the plans to one of his future projects. The scribe had been happy to help draw a picture of what Bofur described.

“It looks rather complicated.” Bilbo noted as he looked over Ori’s shoulder.

“Aye,” The toymaker paused. “But that’s one of its charms.”

“How do you plan on making…this?” Ori’s quiet voice asked over the roar of Gandalf and Radagast’s rather loud conversation.

“You see, I was thinking of starting with a piece of balsa wood. They were always easy to work with but I would need to find something as a suitable material for the mechanisms. That’s going to be the tricky part. I need something flexible enough to not break after bending and also something that is sturdy enough to last for a long time.”

_Gone. He was gone._

“How about some sort of mixture? Like wood and a bit of metal?” Ori suggested as Bofur’s eyes widened with an idea.

_He wasn’t there anymore._

“Yes! I could use something like that. Hmm, how about a pinch of silver?” Bofur nodded his head frantically. “Ori, write this down so I don’t forget it.”

_He couldn’t see him._

“This thing is going to be massive.” The ginger headed dwarf said in wonder.

_Where did he go? He needed him. Didn’t he know he needed him? He was—_

“Bilbo, what do you think?” Bofur asked as he cocked his head at the picture.

“Hmm?” He murmured dreamily.

“The toy,”

“Oh! Well, it seems like it is going to take an awfully long time.” He mused with furrowed brows. “Are you going to be able to make this?”

“Of course I am! I will be fully committed to this once we take back Erebor.”

Bilbo went to reply but was stopped by the sudden feeling of surprise emanating from his flesh. He started slightly as Thorin and Dwalin came rushing through the trees. He immediately felt a wave of relief wash over him and for a small moment he was at peace. However, it quickly went away when he noticed blood on Dwalin’s axe. Thorin’s hardened gaze wasn’t anything good either.

“Warg scouts! An orc pack is not far behind.” The king shouted, stilling the previously lively group.

As Gandalf questioned Thorin about the secrecy of their quest, Bilbo couldn’t help but feel immense fear. The stutter in Thorin’s step went unnoticed by him as he sat up from his spot on the ground, shakily finding the hilt of his sword. He really wished the dark haired dwarf was beside him, close. He wanted to drown himself in the warmth of his presence, wanted him to soothe his shivering bones. He needed him to wrap his arms around him and tell him that everything was going to be alright.  

He couldn’t deny that he was terrified. He didn’t know what the orcs would do to them. He had never encountered one of the creatures before but he had heard the tales of their horrible deeds. They could slaughter an unprepared group of people in as little as ten minutes and leave their charred bones for others to find. Was that going to happen to them?

His eyes tried to find Thorin in the now chaotic swarm of dwarves as they prepared to fight. He had barely caught the end of Gandalf’s words, saying they would get away with Radagast's help as he distracted the orcs. He had just seen Thorin somewhere near the grey wizard but he was now gone. Where did he go? Dwalin. He had to find Dwalin. The two were normally seen together conversing but this was the first time they weren’t near each other. He was going to start panicking soon. He _needed_ to find Thorin.

_Gone. Nowhere. He left. He left him. He was gone._

“Th—”

 “Here,” The breath against his ear was like a rush of blood to his head.

His body stilled as he turned to the king, drowning in his soft blue eyes as he regarded him tenderly. He wrapped himself around the vast heat the dwarf was emitting and nearly buried himself in his fur coat. 

Bilbo let out a tense breath as he wheezed out, “Thorin.”

“Stay close to me.” The commanding tone was almost pleading as the dwarf’s lips twitched uncertainly.

Bilbo nodded wildly, threading his fingers through Thorin’s and making sure it was his left so that the dwarf-king would be able to swing his sword. His grip tightened as he whispered, “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

His words ghosted across Bilbo’s skin like a comforting blanket, tenderly wrapping around his body and forcing away whatever fears he previously had. He felt strengthened suddenly. Like he could take on the world as long as Thorin was beside him. Like he could kill the orcs attacking them. Like he could defeat a dragon or retake a mountain.

Oblivious to Bilbo’s sudden revelry, Thorin led the two to Gandalf who merely gazed at their joined hands curiously before glancing at his wizard companion. He informed them that Radagast would draw the orcs’ attention as they escaped, leaving them the room to run. Gandalf spared no details when it came to the doings of orcs, making sure Bilbo knew exactly what could happen. He repeatedly told Bilbo to stay on his toes as they ran unless he wanted to die by their filthy paws.

Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s hand to calm himself and received a strong squeeze in return.

He took in a deep breath as Radagast flew out of the forest. They followed moments later and Bilbo found that they had emerged onto a vast meadow marred only by the occasional bolder protruding from the ground. The sun was heavy against Bilbo’s skin but he forced himself to ignore it as the group hurried to an upturned rock, hiding behind it while Radagast danced around the orc pack.

He felt Thorin stiffen beside him as Gandalf quickly and almost incoherently ordered the company to follow behind him. Radagast’s sled was a blur to his left while they rushed down the field. It spun around wargs and orcs like he was playing with them, zooming away the moment they got near. However, a group of the savage beasts cut him off, redirecting him past the company and causing them to stop abruptly.

Gandalf cursed his luck before changing directions. The rest of the dwarves stumbled after him but found him running past them swiftly as Radagast came into vision again, swooping past them as the orcs followed behind. A deep growl settled within Thorin’s throat and Bilbo found himself mentally cursing the brown wizard for his so called “distraction”.

“This way. Hurry!” Gandalf said quickly, ushering the dwarves and hobbit back down the field.

“Where are you leading us?” Thorin asked with narrowed eyes as he and Bilbo allowed the others to go before them.

Gandalf merely glanced down at the two before returning to the head of the company.

The group stopped sharply, watching Radagast careen past them. They huddled behind another rock as a straggling orc and warg stopped above them. The monstrous dog sniffed the air around it as though it had caught a scent in the air. Like the scent of dwarves. The pair slowly crept towards the edge, moving closer to the group.

Bilbo sucked in a shallow breath as he looked away from the orc, meeting Thorin’s shining blue eyes thick with a darkness he couldn’t place. The hobbit placed his empty hand over top of their joined ones and smiled shakily. The dwarf-king suddenly turned his head and nodded towards his younger nephew who drew his bow. Bilbo watched as Kili separated from the group and shot two arrows, each meeting their targets. They slid down the rock to meet the ready weapons of the dwarves and their cries of death loudly erupted from them as steel connected with flesh.

It was like time stopped. Silence filled the air as the warg and orc died, the battle almost pausing to let them descend into passing. Then, an ear-piercing screech echoed across the meadow followed by the heavy patter of wargs blazing towards them. Gandalf wasted no time as he spurred the company into motion. As they escaped from the rock they were met by the arrows and shouts of orcs barreling towards them.

They ran towards another rock formation but found two wargs already waiting. They halted their movements and drifted towards each other. Orcrist glinted in the air as Thorin raised it and tightened his grip on Bilbo’s hand. It wasn’t long before they were surrounded. Kili had been easily overwhelmed by the number of orcs approaching them but even as he retreated he continued to shoot.

Bilbo only vaguely heard someone shout that Gandalf had left them. He didn’t dwell too much on the new information as the grey wizard reappeared from within the rocks, waving them towards him. The company quickly ran to him with each member sliding between the rocks and into a small cavern. Half of the dwarves were already down the crevice by the time Thorin and Bilbo approached.

Bilbo made to go down the hole but was stopped by the king’s iron grip. He turned around to find him shouting after Kili and Fili to leave the rest of the orcs. The duo had refused to move as the others retreated, choosing to protect them as they went by. They slowly backed away towards their uncle but Fili was cut off by a rushing warg. He cut it down easily but it was obvious they were going to be overwhelmed.

Bilbo made a startled cry as Thorin released his hand.

The king met his eyes briefly before whispering, “I’ll be back.”

He pushed him down the hole as he ran to rejoin his nephews, leaving the distressed hobbit to call after him even as he fell over top of the other dwarves.

Bilbo stood up quickly as he tried to climb out of the cave, crying out Thorin’s name as he heard metal hit against metal. The slope was too steep and Bilbo found himself trapped down the hole as the dwarf king faced the rest of the orcs. He frantically pulled at his hair as his thoughts immediately darkened to an abysmal black. Thorin was going to die. He was going to be killed by orcs and Bilbo couldn’t do anything about it. He would be stuck down here while the dwarf would be cut to pieces by ravenous orcs. He was useless.

_Thorin was gone._

_Left him alone._

_Let go of his hand._

_Ran away from him._

_To his doom._

_To his death._

_Away from him._

_Missing._

_Gone._

“Calm down, my boy.” Gandalf soothed as he rested a hand on the hobbit’s shaking shoulders. “They can handle themselves.”  

He immediately glared at him. “Calm down? Calm down?! You’re telling me to calm down when Thorin—”

 Shock.

Terror.

Guilt.

Rage.

He lurched forward into Gandalf’s open arms as he held his head in pain. His thoughts were frantic. He was scared. Mad. Mortified. Stunned.

“ _Kili_ ,” He breathed out with eyes as wide as saucers, hands desperately clawing at the grey wizard’s robe.

Before the man could ask why he had suddenly said the archer’s name, the three missing dwarves stumbled down the cave landing in a pool of dust. Bilbo’s sigh of relief was cut short when he noticed the blood caked across both Fili and Kili’s clothes. Two arrows were lodged into the darker haired dwarf’s upper arm, causing the red liquid to pool in those two spots and radiate down his shirt.

Fili was immediately by his brother’s side, holding his hand as the archer let out several strangled breaths. Oin was instantly there, examining the wound. Bilbo stood in shock as the healer lightly touched the two arrows protruding from Kili’s skin. He grumbled something under his breath and slathered a white substance around the arrows.

Bilbo’s eyes flickered to Thorin who was staring down at his nephews with a dark fire in his eyes that made the hobbit step back slightly. Orcrist was held tightly in his hand, ready to strike at anyone who came near.

Suddenly, Bilbo was furious. He was furious with the orcs for hurting Kili. He was furious with himself for letting this happen. If he had just done something different, Kili wouldn’t have been injured. If he had kept his eyes on the boys this wouldn’t have happened. If he had made sure he was the last person in the group as they ran, he would have kept Fili and Kili safe.

 _He was a terrible uncle._   

All of the anger melted away from his bones the moment Oin announced, “Kili, I have to take these out now. This will hurt quite a lot.”

The brave dwarf nodded frantically with wide eyes as he stared down at Oin’s hand hovering over one of the arrows. His lips were trembling and his hold on his brother’s hand was weakening. With renewed purpose, Bilbo dropped to the ground and took hold of Kili’s face, forcing his terrified gaze from his wounds.

“Look only at me, Kili. Look only at me.” He whispered as Oin’s fingers curled around the wooden shaft.

Kili let out a shaky breath but kept his eyes on the hobbit.

In one swift motion, Oin wretched the arrow from his skin and the dwarf let out a loud cry that echoed across the cavern.

He slumped forward, pressing his forehead to Bilbo’s as the hobbit kneaded gentle circles into his neck. Thorin had made his way to the trio after the arrow was removed, sliding to his knees at Kili’s back and wrapping his arm around his waist for support. He murmured something in Khuzdul that made the young dwarf’s lips curl into a pained smile and his brother laugh softly.

“You’re doing fine, little wolf.” Bilbo whispered as Oin settled around the last arrow. “One more and you’re done.”

Kili nodded against him and Thorin tightened his grip on his waist. Oin pulled it free and Kili stifled a scream, only letting out a startled breath that was warm against Bilbo’s skin. Oin quickly moved to stop the bleeding as Bilbo pulled away with a smile. He watched as Thorin whispered something into his nephew’s ear which elicited a shaky laugh from him. He replied with something in dwarfish that had the king pat his stomach lightly before releasing him.

Oin peeled back the clothes against Kili’s shoulder as gently as he could and began treating the punctured wounds. The archer’s face scrunched up into something rather unappealing as the healer moved about the wounds with a clear liquid.

Bilbo merely smiled as he stood up, turning away so that he wouldn’t see the dwarf in such pain. He moved to stand next to the dwarf-king who regarded him with a gaze that made his knees shake. He coughed to cover it up but found that Thorin’s eyes would not leave him even as he bent down to pick up Kili’s bow.

“…Yes?” He handed the bow to the dwarf-king who slung it across his back.

“Are you injured?”

Bilbo shook his head. “Just a few nicks and scratches when I went tumbling down a dark hole that could have led into a fiery pit for all I knew. Are you ok?”

“Better than Kili,” He mumbled dryly. After a few tense moments he added, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I let go of your hand when I promised you that I wouldn’t.”

Bilbo smiled softly before inclining his head towards Kili. “It was for a good reason.”

Thorin hummed thoughtfully as he absently dragged a hand through his hair, unaware that the hobbit repeated the motion to his own.

“Besides,” He continued. “There will be many other occasions where you can hold my hand if you wish to.”

Before the dwarf could reply, Bilbo had turned away to hide the blush that was settling against his cheeks. Had he just invited Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain to hold his hand _again_? The first time was rather spur of the moment and he had felt much safer near the dwarf-king when he did it but now? He mentally cursed his Tookish brain for even saying such an inappropriate statement and if he hadn’t been in the company of thirteen dwarves, he would have been banging his head against the walls of the cavern.

He chanced a glance at the dwarf-king and felt his heart swell into an unnatural size. Thorin was gazing at him tenderly, eyes a calm blue as he tilted his head. His silky hair moved with him, settling over his shoulder. His lips curved into a small smile, pushing away the darkness that had settled onto his face. He looked much younger now. Like he wasn’t carrying the burden of an entire kingdom. It made the hobbit’s heart flutter and his fingers twitch with excitement.

However, the smile quickly disappeared the moment Dwalin had emerged from a path out of the cavern, announcing that they were near the elvish city of Rivendell.

* * *

 

 Thorin did not want to be here. This was one feeling he didn’t care to hide. He wanted the elves to know that he had plenty of places he would rather be than here. Rivendell was known across Middle Earth for being a beautiful land and Thorin had to admit that it held a certain aesthetic appeal. However, he would much rather have the dankness and mystery of Erebor than the butterflies and rainbows of Rivendell.

He had begrudgingly consented to Lord Elrond’s help mostly because the elf had said that they could stay for the duration of Kili's recovery. Thorin did not want his nephew out and about when it was obvious he could barely stand without leaning heavily on Fili. For the moment, he had to tolerate the merriment of elves for the next few weeks. It didn’t help that Lord Elrond was one of the few people on Middle Earth that could read the ancient runes on his map. This was just getting better and better.

“This place is ugly.” Dwalin grunted as he leaned against a marble pole.

Much of Rivendell was open to nature so there were numerous hallways that coincided with wide balconies that looked over the vast expanse of land. Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin had situated themselves at one of the balconies with the evening sun sizzling against their skin. The other members of the company were scattered about though most were settled within an alcove of the structure that they had deemed theirs and it had taken almost all of Balin’s skills as a diplomat to convince Fili to not put up a sign that said “No Elves Allowed”. Thorin hadn’t been opposed to the idea.

The dwarf-king snorted. “What did you expect?”

“…Something nicer,”

“Nicer?” Balin repeated in exasperation. “This _is_ ‘nice’ to them.”

“Yeah but not to _me_.” Dwalin said crossing his arms roughly as he swept his eyes around him.

His brother shook his head with a sigh and decided a change in subject would be the best choice. “Oin says that it will take at least two weeks for Kili to be fully healed. If he wasn’t trying to escape from his bed every waking moment it would be much shorter.”

_He didn’t like being here without him._

“You’d need to strap the lad to the bed if you wanted him still.” Dwalin smirked.

“Fili too,” Thorin added. “He would try to unstrap him.”

Both brothers chuckled softly and the oldest of the group said, “There is still the matter of the map, Thorin.”

_He needed to be where he could see him._

“Do you plan on showing it to Elrond?” Dwalin asked with narrow eyes.

“What other choice do I have?” He sighed. “Gandalf says there are only a few people able to read the runes and we don’t know if we are running against a clock. Elrond may be the only person within miles who could read the map. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

 _It was unsettling_.

Dwalin mumbled something underneath his breath with elicited a sharp glare from his sibling. “What my brute of a brother is trying to say is that he would rather not have an elf reading something so important to our culture.”

_Agitating._

_Infuriating._

_Maddening._

_Unnerving._

“Thorin?”

The dwarf blinked away the blurriness in his eyes and coolly asked, “What would you propose then?”

“Something that didn’t involve the elf,” Dwalin growled.

“Brother, you should remember that Lord Elrond was the one who allowed us to stay for the duration of Kili’s recovery. He’s given us warm food, shelter, and advice.”

“You seem to have forgotten that they didn’t give a damn about us when Erebor fell.”

_He needed to find him._

_Make sure he was safe._

“I am one of the last people to forget something like that. We were _both_ there, Dwalin. I remember quite clearly what had happened.”

His brother snorted as he fixed his dark gaze on his king who had chosen at that moment to loudly tap his finger against the arm of his chair.  

_Find him._

_Hold him close._

_Make sure he never left._

_Make sure the elves didn’t get to him._

_Keep him from getting injured._

_Keep him from getting hurt like Kili._

_He had been reckless._

_Never should have let him out of his sight._

_Useless._

“Thorin, are you alright?” Balin asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Hmm?” He murmured as he finally noticed the loud sound he was creating with his finger. He stopped immediately before frowning deeply. “What?”

“You were—”

“Uncle!” Fili’s voice cut off whatever worry the dwarf had been about to express. The blonde casually walked towards them with a wide smile on his face. He stopped at his uncle’s side, looking down at him with bright blue eyes that mirrored his own. “I was just about to visit Kili. Would you like to come too?”

Thorin glanced at his companions before slowly standing up. With a swift nod he replied, “Of course.”

“Master Baggins and I have been taking turns watching him. You know, to make sure he actually stayed in bed.” He grinned as they began walking away.

Thorin didn’t notice the quickening of his steps at the mention of their burglar’s name.

 

“But Bilbo—”

“No.” He cut the archer off before he began begging again.

The young dwarf had insisted upon leaving his bed, saying that it wasn't right that he was the only one who had a bed of his own. Of course, that wasn’t true. Lord Elrond had provided the entire company with their own rooms but the stubborn dwarves had chosen to occupy a large corner of a hallway, choosing to remain together within the elvish city. Even Bilbo had to admit that he would rather be with the others than in a bed all by himself. It seemed rather...lonely without them. Kili had been the only exception since he needed the special attention for his shoulder.

“In another week, perhaps,” He said softly as he shifted in his seat beside the dwarf. There were strangely no chairs in the small room so Bilbo had been forced to settle himself at the edge of the bed, his hip just barely touching Kili’s leg.

“But I don’t want to be stuck in here the whole time we are in Rivendell. I want to _see_ things.” He pouted.

“You won’t be in here the whole time. Only until you’ve recovered your strength,”

“I have!”

“You seem to have forgotten that only hours earlier you had been shot by two arrows. You lost a lot of blood. You were barely conscious by the time we had reached the city. You’re still rather pale and the sweat hasn’t left your brow since you’ve woken up.” He soothed.

The dwarf was an unnatural shade of pale and his dark hair was glued to his skin due to the amount of sweat glistening from his body. His dirtied clothes had been taken away by the elves to be washed. He was welcomed to use their clothes but he had refused wholeheartedly, saying that he would rather get shot by three more arrows before putting on _their_ clothes. So, he was sitting up in bed with a bare chest, allowing Bilbo to see the tight bandages across his chest and shoulder.

His lips turned downward as he remembered the pained look on the dwarf’s face when he tumbled down the cavern. It deepened when he remembered the terror in his eyes the moment Oin was going to remove the arrows. Something swelled within Bilbo, a sort of motherly instinct to comfort the young dwarf. He had begun moving before he had mentally decided on joining him on the floor. It had been a strange feeling.

_Thorin._

“Patience, little wolf.” He smiled as he patted Kili’s knee.

“Where did you hear that?” The archer asked with a tilt of his head that fondly reminded the hobbit of his uncle.

“What?”

_Thorin._

“’Little wolf,’” He repeated. “Only Mother and Uncle use it. Fili is ‘little lion’.”

“Thorin must have told me.” He shrugged dismissively.

“That’s surprising.” He laughed. “Uncle rarely says it. He only says it when he is seriously comforting me like when I was a child and he would stay up with me all night after I had woken up from a nightmare.”

The far off look in Kili’s eyes told Bilbo that he was enveloped in a sweet memory.

_Needed Thorin._

_Needed his touch._

_His warmth._

_His essence._

“Kee!” Fili shouted as he burst into the room.

“Fee!” His brother replied with the exact same enthusiasm.

Fili had nearly toppled Bilbo over when he jumped onto the bed and nestled himself comfortably at Kili’s side. The hobbit laughed softly as he stood up, backing away to give the brothers more room. He backed into a solid object that settled its hands on his shoulders to keep him from fall back further. The deep rumble that tickled the air behind him calmed his body and forced a shiver down his spine.

He looked up to find crystallized blue eyes staring down at him curiously and felt a smile tug at his lips.

“Hi,” He whispered.

“Hi,” Thorin’s low voice was almost a warm breath against his skin, filling him with an odd sort of comfort he didn’t push away.

The dwarf-king moved to his side, allowing the hobbit to lower his head a little so that he didn’t need to strain his neck to see him. They settled into a comfortable silence as they watched Fili and Kili ramble on and on about something strange the blonde dwarf had seen while he was exploring Rivendell. They had seemed so swept up in their own conversation that they had forgotten the two standing by the door.

Because of this, none of them noticed the gentle hand at Bilbo’s back or the tilt of the hobbit’s head as he rested it against Thorin’s shoulder.            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has received the medal for an excessive amount of italics. 
> 
> But anyway, these boys are so adorable! I AM GOING DOWN WITH THIS SHIP
> 
> Separation didn't really end up the way I wanted it to but meh.
> 
> However, the Contact chapter (or chapters should I decide to split it into two parts) will be so fluffy and sweet that your teeth will fall out.


	5. Contact Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contact: Soul mates yearn to have skin to skin contact. While clothed contact provides some form of comfort, this form provides the most. A lack of touch would negatively affect both parties until contact was made. Generally, neither mate notices this closeness.

Bilbo knew Thorin didn’t want to be in Rivendell. Most of the other dwarves shared this sentiment. Fili, Kili, and Ori were more fascinated by their new surroundings to be as mad as them so their attitudes were more upbeat than the others. It was a childish curiosity that always made the hobbit smile. The grumpier dwarves tended to stick to the small dwarven alcove they had established instead of explore the city like the hobbit had found Fili and Ori (and the occasional Kili who was quickly ushered back to his room) doing on occasion.

It was through Bilbo’s persuasion (or more his forcefulness) that kept Thorin at his side. He knew that if he didn’t keep a tight leash on the dwarf-king he would be running back to his corner to brood about whatever Kings under the Mountain brood about. He was also reluctant to leave the hobbit’s company because everyone on Middle Earth knew that Thorin would easily get lost in the twists and turns of Rivendell. And everyone and their mothers knew he would never ask an elf for help. So, he was stuck following behind the hobbit as he marveled at the architecture of the elven city.

Besides, Bilbo thought Thorin was enjoying himself to a certain extent. He never outwardly showed it but he normally rarely exhibited emotion. Much of the time he walked around with a blank, faceless expression that only ever scrunched up into annoyance or anger. But at moments like this, where they would both be looking out at the vast openness of the hidden valley, there would be a spark in his eyes. A reaction. Something that would tell the hobbit that something had finally gotten to the king.

Walking onto one of the numerous balconies, he smiled as he watched Thorin’s eyes light up under the moonlight. They shifted from a deep, shadowy blue to an electrified, almost alive cerulean. The transformation was subtle, unnoticeable, but to Bilbo it was his entire world. The heaviness in the dwarf’s shoulders seeped away slightly and a relaxing sigh had escaped his lips. These were the moments the hobbit thought he looked inarguably handsome. Almost ethereal.

Bilbo finally turned away from him as he moved towards the railing of the balcony to fully enjoy the sight before him. The large river that cut through the city sparkled underneath the moonlight, disappearing below the horizon and beyond Bilbo’s reach. The structures beneath them were lively with the combination of elvish and dwarfish music, competing with one another to be the dominant culture. Tendrils of light and voices littered into the air, curling a smile onto Bilbo’s face.

He felt an intense heat settle behind him and he leaned back so that he was pressed against it, sighing with contentment. Thorin’s arms circled around his waist, bringing him close and allowing him to be surrounded by the dwarf’s warmth. This was one of the things he liked about dwarves. They were furnaces. Stubborn, loveable furnaces.

“This place is beautiful.” He whispered. His voice was like liquid melting into the sounds below.

“I suppose.” The dwarf replied evenly. “Erebor is more beautiful.”

“I’m sure it is.” Bilbo playfully knocked his head backwards, connecting with Thorin’s chin. After a quiet moment he added, “Tell me about it.”

“She is deep underground surrounded only by the clinking of metal and sparks of fire. Her walls are dark but filled with the history of my people toiling away at stones to create diamonds. To outsiders, she is misunderstood, misinterpreted. While they see the mysterious shell of an introverted people, we see the heart and soul of a mountain.” His low timber vibrated against his chest, tickling Bilbo’s back and sending an odd wave of calm over his body.

“I can’t wait to see it.” The hobbit murmured dreamily.

“You will. We all will.”

Bilbo’s eyes turned downward as he asked, “Do you really think we will?”

“I do.” He replied firmly.

Bilbo leaned further against the king glad that he had decided to remove his armor in favor of a soft tunic, allowing their bodies to press against each other without resistance. He ran a hand up and down the arm around him and felt the dwarf sigh behind him. A comfortable silence settled around them and they allowed themselves to merely enjoy each other’s presence not knowing that this contentment and closeness was a result of a force beyond their control.

Their small moment of peace was cut off by two familiar voices flitting into existence. Soon, the tall figures of Gandalf and Lord Elrond stepped into view below them. They moved to stand at an adjoining bridge, faces laced with a tension Bilbo found settling over Thorin’s shoulders. Their words were rushed and hurried but were still carried over the sound of the music underneath.

“…a good idea?” Bilbo heard Elrond ask.

“What do you mean?” Gandalf wondered with furrowed brows.

“You are someone who rarely forgets things, my friend. The gold sickness runs strong in the line of Durin. Reclaiming that mountain will surely be Thorin Oakenshield’s downfall. He will succumb to the same illness that befell his grandfather.”

The dwarf behind him stiffened significantly as his arms tightened around Bilbo’s waist. He buried his face in the soft curls at the hobbit’s head and the smaller creature laid his hands over top of Thorin’s to comfort him.

He had heard of the gold sickness from Balin. All dwarves had some form of the illness within them but the royal line of Durin, Thorin, Fili, and Kili’s bloodline, was more susceptible to it. It had taken over Thrór and practically destroyed him, leaving him an empty vessel only interested in the dwarven treasury. It was entirely possible that once they had slain the dragon and retaken Erebor that Thorin would eventually be driven insane by the gold.

_Guilt_.

“He is stronger than that.” Gandalf insisted. “He will not become his grandfather.”

“And if he does? What then?”

_Sadness_.

“He _will_ _not_.” He repeated.

“What if he becomes so entranced by the gold that he endangers his friends? His kingdom?”

_Fear._

When Bilbo felt Thorin’s arms begin to slide away from him, he turned around sharply and took the dwarf’s face in his hands, pulling his darkening eyes from the two below. The dwarf-king’s arms had fallen back to his sides leaving the hobbit unpleasantly cold. He smiled up at him but the dark haired king refused to look at him.

“You won’t go mad.” Bilbo said decisively. “I won’t let you.”

“They’re right.” Thorin huffed out dryly. “I’ll be just like my grandfather.”

“No, you won’t. You’re better than that. You will—Thorin Oakenshield, _look_ at me.” He shouted stamping his foot lightly. The king’s crystal blues shifted to him in shock and the hobbit smiled to himself for his accomplishment. “You will not be driven to madness. I will be there every step of the way. If there is any moment where you feel like you are going to lose yourself, come find me no matter what you are doing and no matter what I am doing. You will not be alone in this, Thorin Oakenshield. You have twelve other dwarves with you and a hobbit too stubborn to leave.”

The mask the king had cemented over his face cracked, revealing the tired eyes of a man that was holding up the world with his bare hands. His lips curled into a sad smile as he regarded the hobbit with a weary expression marred by sleepless nights and constant worries. He still had yet to replace his hands over Bilbo’s waist.

“And what if I do indeed lose myself? What will happen?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper.

“I will spend every fiber of my being bringing you back to me or so help me I will beat some sense into you.” The hobbit slowly took the king’s hands in his, entwining their fingers and bringing them to his chest.

“Have I ever told you how stubborn you are?” Thorin smiled but this time it reached his eyes, blurring away whatever sadness that had wrinkled his handsome features.

“I _am_ part Took.” Bilbo replied with a matching grin.

The dwarf hummed as he pulled one of their joined hands towards him and kissed the inside of the hobbit’s palm. Bilbo shivered as the other large hand pressed against his back, pulling him closer. He settled himself against Thorin’s chest momentarily lost in the warmth. He wrapped his arms around the king as his much larger hands finally returned to their place at his waist, curling protectively around him.

Bilbo couldn’t help but admit that he felt completely safe in Thorin’s arms. At that moment, he forgot about Erebor, about Bag End, and about a dragon he would inevitably face. Right now he was in Thorin’s arms. And that’s all that mattered.

* * *

 

Bilbo absently rested his hand over Thorin’s knee as the dwarf-king fussed with his injured nephew’s hair. It was a rather comical image seeing the young prince between his uncle’s legs as he fidgeted around while the King under the Mountain held a face of pure concentration. Bilbo had to wonder how he could still appear regal and intimidating even while he was sharing a bed with a restless prince who was practically sitting in his lap. Fili was watching with mischievous amusement at the end of the bed curled around his uncle and brother’s outstretched legs. Bilbo had managed to drag a chair from the dining hall and into Kili’s room so he was spared an attempt at squeezing onto the already cramped bed.

“It would go a lot faster if you would stay still.” He heard Thorin mutter under his breath as he ran his fingers through the archer’s hair.

“I would much rather be out and about crawling around the rooftops.” Kili pouted.

“That is why you are still in here.” Bilbo said absently as he turned a page in the elvish book he was reading.

“You’re supposed to be on my side not Uncle’s.” Kili whined.

“No. He is.” He replied with a nod towards Fili.

Bilbo set his book down in favor of watching Thorin weave his nephew’s hair into intricate braids that looked way too complicated for him to repeat. The dwarf-king’s face was soft, almost peaceful as his fingers worked. Even though Kili was fussing about like a child, his wide smile had yet to disappear and that could be said the same for his brother. Bilbo couldn’t help but mirror his grin as Thorin finally finished with the braids.

“ _Now_ I’m done.” He announced as he leaned back against the headboard.

Kili followed him back and carelessly laid himself over his uncle. The dwarf grunted but didn’t push him away even as Fili climbed onto his brother like a cat and rested his head on Kili’s stomach, adding to the weight already accumulating on the older dwarf. Bilbo merely chuckled and took Thorin’s hand in his.

“How long are we going to be here?” Fili asked voice muffled against the blanket that rested over Kili’s chest.

“Another week or so,” Bilbo replied as he brought Thorin’s hand closer and rested it against his cheek. In response, the dwarf-king gently ran his thumb over the hobbit’s skin, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.  

“I’ll never get out of this room.” Kili grumbled with a flail of one arm. The other was still too injured to perform the action.

“If you play nicely you might be able to get out early.” At the archer’s brightening face Bilbo added, “Only if you behave.”

“I _am_ behaving.”

“So, I didn’t catch Fili trying to sneak you out of your room yesterday?” Thorin asked with a raised brow.

“He pressured me into doing it!” The blond dwarf said quickly, receiving a smack to the head.

“Ok, ok. I’ll behave from this moment forward.” He said resolutely.

“Fili?” Bilbo inquired.

“Me too!”

“Good,” The hobbit nodded in triumph.

“Uncle Bilbo, you’re supposed to be the nice parent.” Fili complained as Kili feverishly nodded in agreement.

“Uncle? Parent?”

Before either Thorin or Bilbo could say anything, Balin entered the room. He merely shook his head at the pile of nephews on his king and said that it was time for them to show Lord Elrond the map. The dwarf-king grumbled something under his breath that caused Bilbo to smack his knee. The king pushed his nephews off of him and righted himself before joining his companion at the door.

He stopped suddenly and turned towards the hobbit. He held his hand out in a silent question and Bilbo took it almost automatically, following them out the door. He was still bewildered by the way Fili had called him uncle. Sure they had grown close over the course of the few weeks they had been on this journey but he didn’t know they were _that_ close. It actually felt nice being considered an uncle by the two brothers. He had to admit that sometimes he thought of them as his own sons, schooling them as though he were raising them in the Shire. It was a nice feeling.

“Thorin, why are you smiling?” Balin asked as they closed in on a secluded section of Rivendell.

The king rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Why do people have to point out whenever I smile? It’s like they think that it’s impossible for me to do anything but frown.”

“It’s just that you rarely smile.” Balin smirked. “Though, I must admit that you look better when you smile, younger. You should do it more often.”

“If you all are going to make such a big deal about this I might just stop smiling all together.” He pouted making Bilbo’s lips curl upward.

Balin shook his head in exasperation and nodded towards Lord Elrond as they entered a large open cavern overlooking the rest of the valley. A waterfall appeared to be above them, ushering water over the opening. The moon was high in the sky, glinting as little particles in the clear liquid cascaded down the mountain. Bilbo had to marvel at the sheer beauty of the sight before him. It was as though Lord Elrond had specifically made sure the city was built into nature.

They stopped before the elf lord who regarded them with a soft smile that was mirrored on Gandalf’s face. Bilbo wasn’t surprised that his dwarven companions frowned. The stubbornness of dwarves wasn’t a secret. He leaned into Thorin’s side, resting his hand at the dwarf’s back. In response, the king wrapped his arm around the hobbit’s shoulders, settling a comfortable warmth over him.  

“So,” Lord Elrond’s velvety voice echoed against the dark walls, bouncing against Bilbo’s eardrums repeatedly. “What is this about a map?”

Thorin opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the wizard who said, “It’s merely for academic purposes. Some pieces have hidden text and we merely wanted to see if you could read it.”

The elf raised a brow but said nothing further. He held his hand out expecting the dwarf-king to hand him the map but Thorin stiffened against Bilbo and remained completely still. Balin narrowed his eyes at Lord Elrond who continued to patiently wait for the map.

Gandalf let out a sound of frustration, voicing his opinion on dwarven stubbornness. He hurriedly told the king to hand the map over but Thorin merely scowled at him. Bilbo gently ran his hand up and down the dwarf’s spine and heard him sigh softly, shoulders and body relaxing. He looked down at the hobbit who smiled up at him expectantly. The frown disappeared from his lips and he returned his gaze to the elven lord whose hand was still outstretched. He finally relinquished the map, only receiving a small protest from Balin who he silenced with a staggering look.

Lord Elrond unfolded it and began reading from the parchment, brows furrowing in concentration. Bilbo settled his head against Thorin’s shoulder as the elf rattled on about Durin’s Day and a door and something about a bird. He was going to ask what Durin’s Day was but was stopped by Thorin leaning down and explaining it to him. His breath tickled his ear, forcing a pleasant shiver down the hobbit’s spine. The dwarf-king took his empty hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Bilbo smiled widely, neither noticing that three sets of eyes were on the pair throughout the whole exchange.

Gandalf clearing his throat brought the two out of whatever trance they were in. The wizard and Lord Elrond made themselves look like they hadn’t seen anything but Balin was staring at them rather intently, almost in confusion. A rising of his king’s brow drew his attention back to the elf. Thorin _finally_ pulled away from the hobbit in favor of leaning over the map with a newfound interest. He listened as Gandalf and Elrond voiced their concerns, lips pulling into a tight line.

Thorin frowned the moment Elrond had said that it would not be wise to go on this journey. At the dwarf’s harsh glare, he and Gandalf had retired to one side of the cavern to elaborate on his earlier concern leaving Bilbo, Thorin, and Balin by the map.

“What do you think, my friend?” The king asked lightly as he glided his finger over the runes.

“We now have a time limit. We cannot dally any longer if we want to reach the mountain before Durin’s Day. We need to be in exactly the right place at exactly the right time to open the door.” Balin replied gravely.  

“Durin’s Day will not be upon us soon. We still have time. Kili needs to fully recover before we set off again. I do not want him pushed to his limit.” He said decisively.

“I understand.”   

Thorin hummed as he folded the map and slipped it into his pocket. He backed away, stretching his hand out to Bilbo. The hobbit immediately took it with a smile and they left a rather bewildered old dwarf to watch them leave.

* * *

 

Shame. Shame. Shame. Shame. Shame. Anger. Anger. Shame. Fear.

Bilbo awoke with a start. His heart was beating out of his chest, skin tinted with a sheen of sweat, and hands trembling against his blanket. He sat up abruptly, eyes quickly scanning his group of friends huddled asleep in their makeshift corner. He let out several tense breaths as he tried to calm himself, failing each time. He quickly turned to his left, his gaze instantly falling on the dwarf in his bedroll beside him.

Thorin’s shoulders were twitching jaggedly, fingers mirroring the staggered motions. His breaths were rough, shallow almost desperately trying to get out. The dwarf was curled into himself as though he was trying to protect himself from whatever he was dreaming about. Bilbo could barely make out the king’s furrowed brows and quivering lips in the darkness but not even the dark could hide his pained expression. He didn’t realize he was already crawling towards him until he was hovering above the sleeping dwarf.   

_It was quick. Dragon. The dragon was here. Fire. Death. Screams. Running. Running to his grandfather, tearing him from the treasury. The dragon had taken it. Claimed it as its own. The whole mountain. The elves did nothing. Ran. Cowards. Weaklings. He was useless. Couldn’t stop a dragon. Couldn’t lead his people. Couldn’t. Too scared to. Terrified._

Bilbo hesitantly placed his hand on Thorin’s shoulder and the dwarf flinched violently under his touch. He leaned forward, pressing his hand to the king’s chest and whispering, “It’s alright. Everything’s alright. Come back to me.”

He shook him slightly and soon startled blues eyes snapped open, staring up at him like he was a ghost. A hand came up to slowly curl around the hobbit’s neck and he gulped nervously. The hand squeezed gently before falling back to Thorin’s side, choosing to wrap around Bilbo’s wrist on his chest. They stayed like that for a long silent moment, Thorin calming himself and Bilbo rubbing circles into his shoulder.

Then, the dwarf sat up with the hobbit falling into his lap at the sudden change in position. Bilbo opened his mouth to say something but was silenced by a finger to his lips that drifted to the back of his head, burying in the hair at the nape of his neck. Wordlessly, Thorin leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s, breathing in softly. The hobbit’s eyes fluttered closed as he wrapped his arms around the larger man’s neck, content to just sit there with him.

Thorin’s hands settled around Bilbo’s waist, pulling him closer until he was flush against the dwarf.

He knew the last thing Thorin wanted to do was talk about his nightmare. Even though they both knew that it would be good for him to at least say something about it, Bilbo was fine with just being there for him. Thorin was never one for words. His actions were more meaningful because they truly showed the emotion the king had failed to voice. He was the embodiment of the phrase “actions speak louder than words”.

Bilbo also knew that, contrary to popular belief, Thorin did in fact feel. He wasn’t as heartless and cold as some would call him. The blank expression he had cemented on his face was from years of turmoil and loss that hardened his heart and stilled his emotions. Regardless, he felt more intensely than everyone else in the company. He was a passionate dwarf that felt so powerfully that it was best for him to keep it inside lest he cause a scene. He would much rather brood silently about something bothering him than voice his concerns.

Not many people understood the raw emotion Thorin Oakenshield felt. But Bilbo did. He knew that just sitting here like this with the dwarf was helping him. No words needed to be said. Nothing. Thorin _knew_ Bilbo was there so there was no point in it being repeated vocally. Right now Bilbo was keeping the King under the Mountain grounded, safe. And he was doing it without saying anything.

Thorin let out a deep sigh that tumbled down Bilbo’s face and settled deep within his bones. He felt the king’s arms relax around him, his body losing its previous rigidity in favor of a much calmer state. The hobbit rubbed soft circles into his back that provoked another sigh from the dwarf-king’s lips.

“I don’t believe I will be sleeping any time soon.” Thorin’s voice was low, barely above a whisper.

“Come with me then.” Bilbo smiled as he stood up, extending his hand out for the dwarf to take.

Thorin took it and followed the hobbit out of their makeshift alcove quietly making sure that most of their companions were accounted for. They were minus three but that was no surprise to the hobbit. Gandalf had been the only one to retire to his room and Fili and Kili had decided to share the injured dwarf’s bed. It was difficult to separate the brothers.

Bilbo led the dwarven king to a balcony overlooking the tall trees and sparkling water, far enough away that their voices wouldn’t disturb the others. The moon was high in the sky, shimmering with the brilliant stars and watching over the two with wise eyes. Bilbo let out a soft breath as he took in the view. He couldn’t believe they were going to leave such a beautiful place.

He saw Thorin move to stand beside him and noted the darkness still swirling within his tired eyes. Bilbo took the dwarf’s hand in his and leaned against him silently pressing a kiss to his calloused fingers.

Thorin rested his head against the hobbit’s as he whispered, “I’m sorry for keeping you up.

He waved away his apology. “It’s not like I was busy.”

The low chuckle to his left was a blessing in disguise, warming his heart and making something bubble deep inside him. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. It was nice.

“Thank you.” The king said after a long silence.

“For what?”

Thorin opened his mouth but opted out of saying whatever he had decided upon. It seemed like hours before he had found his words again. “Normally I would be pestered with questions about what nightmare I had and be annoyed to oblivion with the amount of worried looks I would be given. Thank you for…not doing that.”

“I could tell you didn’t need that. You’re not that kind of person.”

“It seems you know me more than my closest friends, Master Baggins.”

“Perhaps I can just see who you really are, Master Oakenshield.”

“Oh?”

“You outwardly make it seem like you aren’t fazed by whatever’s happening or you create an air of indifference around you but in actuality you are keeping yourself from having an outburst. I think that you feel more passionately than most, so much to the point that it would be necessary for you to feign stoicism. You bottle up your emotions not because you want to but because you have to. That’s why whenever someone tries to coax an emotion out of you it only results in your annoyance. You probably feel stronger than all of us combined which is also why you frequently occupy a corner of the room to calm yourself. Am I right?”

Thorin remained silent causing Bilbo to momentarily think that he had been wrong about his assumption. He looked up at him in uncertainty but merely found the dwarf staring down at the railing blankly. Bilbo nervously bit his lip. He was starting to think that this had been a bad idea. He was stupid to think he actually understood the King under the Mountain. How could a lowly hobbit understand royalty? He was stupid. Stupid. Stupid—

“You never cease to amaze me, Master Baggins.” Thorin’s lips had curled into a gentle smile, banishing whatever insecurities the hobbit was feeling.

“I-I don’t try to do that. I mean…I didn’t mean to intrude. I just thought…”

“We’ve only been on this journey for a few weeks but it seems you understand me more than my own mother ever did.” He said softly, ignoring whatever rant the hobbit was struggling through.

Bilbo decided that this was another situation where words weren’t needed (unless he wanted to continue making a complete fool of himself) so he replaced his head against Thorin’s shoulder and shut his mouth. The dwarf chuckled quietly but nonetheless rested his head against Bilbo’s again.

And for the rest of the night, neither said anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cuteness overload!!
> 
> I don't know what to feel about this chapter. It seemed a bit...choppy to me. Too episodic. But I never completely like my chapters so that's nothing new.
> 
> Don't worry. There will be an explanation for Thorin and Bilbo's obliviousness in the next chapter 
> 
> Next chapter: Balin aka Sherlock Motherhumping Holmes and John "Dwalin" Watson are on the case! Gandalf's there too.


	6. Contact Part 2

Balin was no fool. Seriously. It was hard _not_ to notice Thorin and Bilbo’s rather…odd behavior towards each other. Ever since they came to Rivendell, the two were never separated. They were with each other at every second of the day and it was rare to see one without the other. It was even stranger to see them on top of each other like hormonal teenagers. Of course, they never kissed in public but they always came dangerously close to doing so. The closest Balin had seen them get was when they were wrapped around each other like vines with their foreheads pressed together. And every dwarf on the planet knew that that was a rather intimate gesture.

“Thorin,” He had asked one day. “Is there something you should be telling me?”

“What?” His brows had scrunched up in confusion and the tilt of his head was a telltale sign of his ignorance.

This had been one of the few occasions Balin had managed to separate the two from each other. Of course, it wasn’t really his doing. He had merely caught the dwarf-king before he followed Bilbo into Kili’s room.

“About our burglar?” He prodded.

“Bilbo? What? What is the matter?”

He had immediately dropped the subject and allowed the dwarf into the room. Thorin and Bilbo were acting strangely. Of course, it wouldn’t have been strange if they were in a relationship. Balin would be behind whatever relationship his king would decide upon. It was just…it was just that it seemed like the two didn’t even realize they were so close. Whenever he had observed the two, they would do these actions almost automatically and without a second thought. They didn’t even seem like they noticed when they did this.

They would be confused when someone from the company would question why they were holding hands or leaning against each other. They’d either shrug away the question or voice their confusion as well.

It was from all of these observations that had Balin wondering if they _really_ didn’t know they were showing affection to each other. That was when he absently thought about soul mates even though they were dangerously rare these days. Soul mates used to be found all over Middle Earth but over time they slowly deteriorated, a pair only appearing seldomly. When Balin had learned of them, it had been during a time they weren’t as popularly seen so his teachers had only skimmed over the subject.

However, now that he thought back on the subject, Thorin and Bilbo didn’t seem far off from soul mates. The Initial Encounter was what cemented the bond and he vaguely remembered his teachers saying something about mates passing out simultaneously. He didn’t know about Bilbo but Thorin had fallen unconscious the night they were at Bag End. He merely put it off as exhaustion but now…

When he voiced his concerns to his brother, he had simply scoffed and went back to eating.

“I’m serious, Dwalin.”

“Soul mates don’t exist anymore.” He sputtered out mid-chew.

“You don’t know that. Thorin and Bilbo have been acting rather oddly around each other and this has only been a recent occurrence.”

Dwalin rolled his eyes as he gruffly set his food down. “Maybe they just have a thing now.”

“I don’t think so. I mean, it _looks_ like they do but you must remember that our king has a rather…difficult time expressing his feelings. So, seeing him show affection this publicly is strange. We both know Thorin. He would _not_ be acting like this. Yes, he would show something but nothing as outwardly as…well that.”

He pointed towards the pair and Dwalin reluctantly gazed at them across the enclosure. They were resting on a bench flanked by Fili and Kili (who was finally allowed out of his room) at their feet. Bilbo was absently running his fingers through Fili’s hair as Kili was detailing a particularly interesting story about the elves he had seen during one of his newly permitted explorations. Thorin’s arm was wrapped around the hobbit’s waist with Bilbo’s head pillowed against his shoulder. The hobbit’s other hand was entwined with Thorin’s in the dwarf’s lap but Balin couldn’t really see because Kili’s head was occupying that same spot. 

“It looks ok to me. It’s a little happy family over there.” Dwalin shrugged.

“You are as blind as a bat trying to fly in the sunlight.” He snapped. “ _Think_ about it.”

“Fine. Soul mates go through stages right?”

“The Initial Encounter is the first. It creates the bond. It’s characterized by an emotional surge and the soul mates passing out.”

“Thorin did faint that one time.” Dwalin mumbled as he chuckled at his king fainting like a little lady.

“Connection is second. They do something…oh I don’t remember. It’s been ages since I’ve thought of soul mates. Oh! They share emotions. That would be rather difficult to prove since that is a mental aspect. I don’t—”

“I have an idea.” Dwalin smirked as he stood up.

Balin curiously watched as his brother approached the three Durins and hobbit and said something briefly to his king. Thorin frowned deeply at whatever he said and replied with something that made the tattooed dwarf laugh dryly. Balin was actually glad to find that Bilbo shared Thorin’s frown even narrowing his eyes just like the king would. Then, the expression quickly went away and returned to something more…hobbit-y.

Dwalin returned with a satisfied grin and asked, “See anything?”

“It does appear like they share emotions to a certain extent but it is hard to tell. Regardless, the third stage is Separation which I noticed happen while we were being chased by orcs. Bilbo had taken Thorin’s hand and they didn’t let go until Bilbo was pushed down the hole that led to Rivendell. He seemed rather distraught. He only went back to normal when Thorin finally tumbled down.”

“So I assume right now they’re going through a touch thing?” Dwalin snorted.

“Contact, yes. Though—”

“It appears that you gentlemen are conversing about something rather interesting.” The two dwarves looked up to find Gandalf smiling down at them with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He settled down beside them, setting his staff down to his right.

“So you also think Thorin and Master Baggins are soul mates?”

“I must admit that I am not entirely sure but I do believe there is a chance that they may be.” He said with a twist of his lips as his gaze flickered over to the quartet occupying the corner of their enclave. “Though, it would be rather fascinating if they were. I’ve only ever met a few pairs on my journeys.”

“We should just tell them.” The tattooed dwarf huffed.

“Heavens no!” He fixed Dwalin with a look of disapproval. “That would be counterproductive. You see, I believe that if we tell them about their possible bond, they would quickly deny it. Thorin and Bilbo are just those kinds of people. We know each of them well enough to know that they would hurriedly reject anything between them. Denying a bond is worse than not knowing it exists at all. I am merely waiting until they discover it themselves.”

“They’re stupid if they haven’t figured it out by now.” Dwalin said with a roll of his eyes.

“No, they aren’t. It is completely normal to not notice it at this stage. Tell me, Master Dwarf, do you ever notice when you smile or rest your chin on your hand or when you scratch an itching body part?” Gandalf inquired with a rise of his brow.

“No, I don’t.” He replied with narrowing eyes.

“The actions Thorin and Bilbo are performing are completely normal to them. You see, Dwalin, there are some things that we do automatically. We don’t question why we do them. Right now, it is their instinct to have contact. They don’t see anything strange because to them what they’re doing isn’t. And have you noticed Thorin’s rather…”jovial” mood? He’s been quite bearable the past few days don’t you think?”

“Aye,” Dwalin snorted. “Less of an ass,”

“That is Bilbo’s doing. Master Baggins is normally in a content temperament and that is reflected in the way Thorin is acting. He is more patient and less judgmental.” Gandalf smiled as he watched the pair and Fili help their injured companion up.

“These all seem like the signs of soul mates but we can’t be certain.” Balin sighed as he crossed his arms.

“Hmm, perhaps we can do a little test.” Mischief reignited in the old wizard’s eyes as he continued, “I believe that since they are going through Contact that Separation is still quite influential. Removing them from each other would surely affect them negatively.”

“…And?”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.” He smiled wickedly.

* * *

 

Bilbo would never deny his close friend a walk through Rivendell. However, had he known that their walk would have consumed his entire day, he would have politely declined. After having helped Kili back to his room, he and Thorin had planned to take their _own_ walk around the city and before he could ask the king to join him and Gandalf, Balin and Dwalin had whisked him away for some strange reason. Thus, he had spent the entirety of his day and much of his afternoon with the wizard. Didn’t he think the hobbit had things he would much rather be doing than this?

He knew he wasn’t being much of a great companion anyway. Most of their conversations were one sided with Bilbo only occasionally adding something. His mind wasn’t fully there. He would easily find himself dreamily thinking about others things that interested him more than Gandalf’s silly words. Like what Thorin was doing, if he was enjoying himself, what he was wearing or if he had eaten enough at breakfast. Then there were the fleeting thoughts of whether Fili and Kili were behaving themselves which they probably weren't.

It felt like half of him was missing. He didn’t feel… _whole._ He wasn’t really there. He was needed elsewhere. He could feel it. As much as he would enjoy Gandalf’s company on any other day, he wasn't at the moment.

“Bilbo,”

He _needed_ to be elsewhere. He wanted to be beside Thorin. He wanted to feel the king’s large arms circle around him, bringing him close and wrapping him in intense warmth that he would welcome wholeheartedly. He wanted to bury his fingers in his dark hair, lose himself in its shadowy depths. He wanted to hear the dwarf’s low voice rumble deep within his chest as his hot breath ghosted over his ear. He wanted…he wanted…Thorin.

“Bilbo!”

The hobbit jolted as reality suddenly reformed around him. A firm hand was pressed to his shoulder, keeping him from hitting a pole he would have carelessly crashed into. He found Gandalf’s wary gaze tattooed to him as he came back to his senses. The sky was blossoming with the reds and oranges of the sun gently touching against the horizon. It would only be another hour before it would be consumed by it. They had somehow managed to reach an opened area that Bilbo had found to be just another form of a location overlooking the many layers of Rivendell.

“Hmm?” He smiled even though he knew it wouldn’t reach his eyes.

“That must have been the tenth time you nearly hit something, my boy.” Gandalf said with a shake of his head.

Then, Bilbo was gone again. His ears had picked up the whiff of a noise, brief yet entirely familiar. He heard it again, this time louder. He stumbled towards the balcony, ignoring the wizard’s irrelevant questions. He _knew_ that voice. It was a low timbre that barely qualified as a sound. It was more of a deep-toned growl that always enchanted him whenever it littered into the air. It would always shatter whatever small ounce of control he would manage, breaking it in seconds.

He strained his eyes as he leaned dangerously over the railing. His vision danced between the overhanging buildings and those below him to find the source of the melodic voice. He finally spotted a trio of dwarves in the gardens conversing quietly. It didn’t take him long to figure out who they were. Balin and Dwalin were seated on the ground energetically engaged in a conversation about something that flew over his head. But they didn’t matter.

He had to bite his lip to keep from letting out a desperate whine as he spotted Thorin leaning against a tree, eyes downcast and arms crossed. The dwarf’s shoulders were tense as he scorched the earth with his fiery gaze. A heavy frown was set against his lips and it took every ounce of control to keep Bilbo from jumping from the balcony and smoothing away the scowl that had tainted his dwarf’s face.

He needed to go to him. To be near him. To hold him. He needed to…to…

He struggled to stay upright as an extreme surge of emotion slid over his skin like a thick blanket tightening around his body.

 Huh.

Gandalf was gone.

Bilbo’s thoughts had merely touched at the fact the wizard was absent. It was soon pushed to the back of his mind as his grip tightened on the railing. He threw his eyes back to Thorin but found the dwarf had left his spot at the gardens. Only Balin and Dwalin remained and they had stood up at some point, shifting on their feet nervously.

Where did he go?

Where did he go?

Where—

“ _Bilbo_ ,” Thorin’s voice was like music to his ears. He was close. Like he was…

 Oh.

When his eyes met wide stormy blues his knees almost buckled. A wave of relief crashed over him, nearly tumbling him to the floor. The dwarf’s pupils were dilated, savage, and predatory. His cheeks were slightly reddened as though he had run somewhere. To him. And that sent a pleasant chill up Bilbo’s spine, curling his lips into a greedy smile.

In two quick strides the king had closed in on him, pulling him into a bone crushing hug that shattered whatever panic had settled over his shoulders. He returned it just as feverishly, relishing in the sudden heat that threatened to make him lose consciousness. His skin sizzled against Thorin’s, almost set ablaze by the sheer intensity of his body. He pressed against it, clawed at it, pulled at it, and wanted it to consume him, destroy him. Needed it to.

Bilbo threaded his fingers through the dwarf’s silky hair, hair that reminded him of a black sun, intense and dangerous. He shivered as Thorin’s hand slipped underneath his shirt, pressing against his bare back and throwing a staggered sigh from the hobbit’s lips. When Thorin leaned his forehead against his, Bilbo had to quickly shut his eyes at the sudden rush of need, want, and desire that wracked at his skull.

His fingers tightened in the dwarf’s hair, pulling him flush against him. Their lips were mere centimeters apart, so close yet barely touching, teasingly so. They never did.  

The two were so consumed by each other that they failed to notice the curious wizard eyes gazing at them from the darkness.   

* * *

 

“So?” Dwalin prodded as he impatiently tapped his foot on the ground. “Are they mates or not?”

“It seems more and more plausible as I think about it.” Gandalf mused with an absent stroke of his beard. “What I observed was rather…intriguing. Though, I know of one thing that would surely confirm my theory.”

“No. We aren’t doing anything else. You did not see Thorin. He was in a _terrible_ mood when he was with us. More so than usual. I do not want to see him like that again.” Balin said firmly.

“I was not thinking of anything along the lines of that, Master Dwarf.” Gandalf smiled. “I want to give them this.”

The wizard pulled a small purple orb from his robes and the dwarves leaned in close to examine it. It looked like a mere grape.

“This is a fruit that reaches beyond the individual. To the soul.” He continued. “It was used in times long ago, when soul mates were plentiful, to see if people were bonded. This fruit affects a person’s very being and seeing as though Thorin and Bilbo share that same being, I believe that this fruit will affect them both when consumed. I simply want one of them to eat it. If nothing happens then the two aren’t soul mates. If something does…well…”

“What will it do to them?” Balin asked with narrowing eyes.    

 “I actually do not know.” He admitted. “Though I do know that it will not kill nor sicken them. That I am sure of. I would never intentionally put them in harm’s way.”

“This is the last thing we do.” Balin said slowly. At Dwalin's infuriated gaze he added, “Right, Gandalf?”

“I promise.” He smiled again.

* * *

 

Bilbo had grown accustomed to loud meals with his dwarven companions. There was never a meal where everything went smoothly or they were quiet and civil. He quite liked it though. It made everything livelier and made him momentarily forget about their dangerous quest. Since they were eating in an elvish city, their conversations were louder and more rambunctious, almost like they wanted to drown out everyone else.

Fili, Kili and Oin still had yet to arrive but that was because the older dwarf had gone to retrieve the two and make sure Kili’s wounds were healing properly. Regardless, the absence of some of the dwarves was a blessing in disguise. He knew that the addition of energetic brothers and a dwarf who could barely hear would just raise the level of noise they were projecting from the table. Gloin was having an animated conversation with Dori, Nori, and Dwalin about the fragility of elves while at the other end of the table Ori and the Ur dwarves were having an equally loud discussion about the architecture of the city. It seemed that only Balin, Thorin, Gandalf and Bilbo were maintaining a level of respectability but that didn’t surprise the hobbit.

He rolled his eyes as he popped another fruit into his mouth. Unlike his uncivilized brethren, he enjoyed the fruits and vegetables Rivendell had to offer. He didn’t think meat was a necessity at every meal so he would eat his food thankfully. The others, however, ate more warily.

Bombur tumbling out of his chair swiftly caught his attention and he laughed with the rest of his companions as the large dwarf struggled to get up. It took three of his friends to finally right him. Bilbo smiled softly at the quiet curl of Thorin’s lips, placing his hand on the king’s knee to rest as he continued eating.

He popped another grape into his mouth but this time it tasted rather sour and repulsive. His face crinkled into an expression of pure disgust but he quickly schooled his features lest he offend their gracious hosts. Ignoring the nasty flavor, he swallowed it down and continued eating. He had probably eaten a bad fruit.

He soon forgot the experience when Thorin had taken Bilbo’s hand in his lap and gently ran his thumb over the knuckles.

The sudden addition of Fili, Kili, and Oin to the dining room exploded the table with more noise. There were questions of Kili’s condition and he waved them away with his uninjured arm. He did look better but he still had to lean against his brother to walk properly. At Oin’s declaration of his rapid recovery, cheers erupted from the dwarves and they welcomed him with open arms.

Thorin had gotten up to help his nephew to the table but stopped suddenly, his face crinkling into pure confusion. Their jovial moment was immediately interrupted by the King under the Mountain falling to the floor, unconscious.

Bilbo quickly stood up with the rest of his companions but suddenly regretted the decision. The world around him spun with an intensity he tried to will away but it continued to blur his senses, staggering him. He grabbed onto the table to steady himself but it did nothing to help him stay grounded.

He abruptly fell backwards onto his chair, eyes fluttering shut.

 

Bilbo was coaxed awake by a gentle hand through his hair. He dreamily leaned into the touch as he convinced his eyes to slide open. He was met by the darkness of their dwarven alcove and the intense heat to his left. He turned slightly to find Thorin lazily sitting beside him, hand swimming through his curls. His steely blue orbs were staring out towards the hallway unfocused, pensive like he was deeply thinking about something important.

Bilbo let out a groan as he sat up. He finally realized that he and Thorin were the only ones in the enclosure. At the sight of the sky, he knew the others were probably still eating. The king let his hand fall away from his hair as his eyes finally focused on something tangible. A small smile was touched against his lips and Bilbo couldn't help but mirror it.

“What happened?” He asked slowly.

“Oin says it was something we ate. All I know is that I’m never eating elven food again for as long as I live.” Thorin replied grumpily.         

Bilbo laughed lightly as he settled his hand on Thorin’s arm. The king absently ran his fingers up and down the hobbit’s thigh and unintentionally caused a shiver to slide through him. “Are we going to be ok?”

“He says we’ll be fine but he’ll be watching what we eat from now on. This is what happens when you steal food from my plate, hobbit.” He said teasingly.

“You didn’t exactly stop me.” Bilbo smiled as he stood up. At Thorin’s curious expression, he added, “I don’t want to be cooped up in here for the rest of the night. Do you?”

The dwarf-king followed him up, gently placed his hand at the hobbit’s back, and asked, “What do you have in mind?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know but I’m not hungry anymore.”

Thorin hummed in agreement and started making his way out of the hallway. He stopped suddenly at the sound of dwarven music littering into the air. The normally loud chatter of his companions had lulled to a whisper as voices mixed into the music, creating a soft, languid song that reminded Thorin of home. He turned abruptly as he held his hand out to the hobbit that had been diligently following behind him.

“May I have this dance?” He smirked. Bilbo’s wide eyes flickered from Thorin to his outstretched hand, hesitating slightly. “Do you not know how to dance?”

“I’ll have you know that hobbits are excellent dancers.” He pouted with a cross of his arms.

“Then why the hesitancy? Or is it customary for hobbits to keep kings waiting?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes but nonetheless took his hand. He settled against the dwarf easily, bodies piecing together like a puzzle. He entwined his fingers with Thorin’s and rested his other hand on his shoulder. The king’s arm had snaked around his waist, inhabiting the natural curve of his back.

It was clumsy at first but Bilbo had quickly rewired his brain to perform the female role of the dance. He had found it easy to let Thorin lead, to take control. One thundery look from the king would always be enough for Bilbo to submit to him, to fall into his strong arms. And he quite liked that.

They found a comfortably slow pace, swaying to the deep dwarven voices spilling from the dining room. Using his height to his advantage, Bilbo rested his head against Thorin’s chest allowing the king to place his chin over his curls. The gentle rumble of his chest and the quiet words that escaped his lips mingled perfectly with the music, pleasantly sliding over Bilbo like the hand running up and down his back.

Bilbo had only heard Thorin sing three times. Once was at Bag End when he spoke of misty mountains and trees like torches in the night. The second time was during one of Thorin’s numerously sleepless nights. Bilbo had awoken to another language littering through the air and Bilbo had sorely wished that he knew the dwarven tongue to fully enjoy the song. And this was the third time when he was held close by the king as though he was only singing to him.

Bilbo marveled at the fact that Thorin’s voice could get lower than the quiet roar he had grown accustomed to. When the king sang, his voice drifted down several octaves, so low that you’d think he wasn’t saying anything at all. Like his words only ghosted over you, tickled your skin, lingered like a cold chill that warmed you at the same time. Even his voice was a mystery, adding to the enigma that was already Thorin Oakenshield.

But he loved that about him. Bilbo loved the fact that Thorin was not a simple person. His emotions were almost constantly on a rampage, struggling for control and forcing his face into a permanent frown. He passionately loved and hated with a burning hot intensity. Stubbornness was his middle name and if he didn’t already have the epithet of Oakenshield, it would more than likely have been Broodenshield.

But Thorin was Thorin. He had his good side and his bad side. Most people did. Once you manage to get past his tough exterior there was a noble, honorable king who would risk everything to take back his homeland. Somewhere in there.

“Are you laughing at my singing or my dancing?”

Bilbo looked up to find Thorin staring down at him with an unreadable expression. Yep. He had a tough exterior.

“No. It was something I was thinking about.” He smiled. “I must admit that you dance rather well.”

“It would not be appealing for a dwarven prince to not know how to dance. The image of royalty must be maintained.” He mumbled.

“Can Fili and Kili dance as well?”

“Terribly but yes,” Thorin smirked.

“That is something I wouldn’t mind seeing.”

“When we retake Erebor, we shall hold a celebration that will require them to dance.”

“I can’t wait.” Bilbo laughed.

He settled himself back against Thorin who had resumed singing. His eyes fluttered closed as he imaged two energetic dwarven princes stepping on the toes of their dance partners. Oh. That was something he couldn’t wait to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I had a little too much fun with this chapter. :D
> 
> Unfortunately, we have to leave Rivendell. 
> 
> Next Chapter: The Pale Orc, The One Ring, and The Hug Seen Round The World.


	7. Fluctuating Body Temperature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluctuating Body Temperature: The hormonal imbalance experienced from a new bond creates instability in bodily temperature. Temperatures shift between extremely hot and extremely cold quickly between the partners, almost simulating a fever or hypothermia.

Bilbo was scared and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that. He had nearly been crushed during a thunder battle between stone giants so he was allowed to do whatever the hell he wanted. That meant that he could sleep against Thorin as close as he wanted. The king didn’t even mind which encouraged Bilbo to snuggle closer. He buried his head in the furs of Thorin’s jacket and smiled when he wrapped his arms around his small frame.

The other members of the company didn’t say anything and Bilbo wanted to think that it was because they didn’t mind this closeness. However, it was actually because they were still overcome by the destruction of the giants. Fili and Kili were glued together beside him, Dori was thoroughly checking over his brothers, and the others were quietly huddled together, whispering in their mysterious dwarven language. Stone giants weren’t fun.

Bilbo struggled to unbutton his collar as another wave of crushing heat bombarded him. He let out a strangled breath, moving closer to Thorin. He had been having reoccurring heat flashes ever since they left Rivendell. Some had gotten so bad that he was sure he was going to pass out. The rain that had hit them on the mountain was cold against his skin, keeping the heat at bay but now he was unsuccessfully trying to cool himself.

Under normal circumstances, he would have been far away from Thorin. Dwarves were known to be as hot as the fires of hell but the king was strangely cold. His skin reminded the hobbit of ice and snow and this allowed him to press against him feverishly. Thorin had pressed back just as desperately and Bilbo hoped that he was getting some of his excess heat. He didn’t like the way the king’s fingers trembled against his hips. It was unnerving. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so warm.” Thorin mumbled into his curls.

Bilbo smiled against him. “I don’t either. You’re relatively cold.”

“As one should be,” He murmured, referring to the icy rain that had pelted them earlier.

Thorin ran a hand up and down the hobbit’s spine causing his heart to flutter pleasingly. He didn’t know when the two had become this close. He didn’t even remember when it had started. The king never objected to his touches and Bilbo didn’t mind the occasional hand at his back. He knew the others had noticed their familiarity. He saw it every time Fili and Kili smiled at them and whenever Balin and Gandalf would look at them with a knowing expression.

However, he didn’t understand why he, himself, had failed to notice it. This would have been something quite obviously seen but for some reason he only realized their intimacy rather recently. He wasn’t opposed to it though. If Fili and Kili could be wrapped around each other like snakes and no one question it, then he could be pressed against Thorin as much as he wanted. There wasn’t anything strange about it.

Bilbo spread his fingers over Thorin’s chest frowning slightly at the fact that there was thick armor between him and the dwarf’s skin. He let out a quiet sigh as he begrudgingly accepted that he would be unable to get any closer than this.

_He wanted nothing but skin between them._

Bilbo immediately reddened at the thought, burying his face into Thorin’s silver mail and suddenly regretted it. The heat that had settled against his bones flared with a renewed vigor, surging forward and blanketing him with a blazing warmth that painted sweat at his brows. He pushed away from the dwarf with a strangled yelp and peeled his coat off. He fell back onto the stone floor in exasperation, wiping at the wetness that laced his forehead.

He let out several staggered breaths, each more haggard than the last as the stone beneath him warmed from his erratic temperature. He chanced a glance at Thorin who had surprisingly not noticed his external turmoil. Instead, the dwarf king had wrapped himself further within his fur coat, shivering with an invisible chill that Bilbo wished he could wash away.

He wanted to lean over and transfer his raging heat to the dwarf. He wanted to help him, to give him what he didn’t need.

He rolled over, flinching slightly at a sudden increase in temperature. He took Thorin’s shaking hands and nearly recoiled. They were dangerously cold. He brought them to his chest, burying them within the small space between the two. The king tried to smile but it came out more as a grimace that surged Bilbo forward, wrapping his arms around his neck and bringing him close.

He felt Thorin settle his large hands at his back, pushing his face into the hobbit’s soft shirt. The chill emanating from the king strangely balanced out the heat Bilbo was feeling, allowing him to momentarily forget that he was unnaturally warm. Thorin seemed to relax against him, his breathing evening out and his shoulders losing their tensed form.

That was until Bilbo shivered.

It was like his body had flipped a switch. A chill travelled over him, spreading goose bumps in its wake and quivering his lips. He took in a startled breath as Thorin pulled him closer. He, in contrast, was a blazing furnace, his fingers sizzling against his icy bones. Bilbo slid his arms into the dwarf’s coat, wrapping around his larger frame.

It was like they had traded places.

When they had asked Oin about their fluctuating temperatures, he had strangely glanced at Balin and Gandalf who were eying the trio suspiciously. Oin, then, told them they were fine. Hot flashes and cold chills happened to people of every race. There was nothing to worry about. Of course, he had failed to tell either of them how intense it would get, bordering on near unconsciousness on Bilbo’s part.

He had been in the middle of asking the healer why both he _and_ Thorin were experiencing them when Oin had been called over by Gandalf to check on something Dwalin was showing his brother. What a coincidence.

Bilbo hurriedly tugged his coat back on and snuggled closer to the blazing furnace beside him, cursing the cool metal at the dwarf’s chest. He would have rather had Thorin without his armor but the thickness was necessary. It would keep his dwarf safe.

He settled closer with a smile, knowing that the obstruction would help keep his king alive.

 

It all happened so fast. The ground had suddenly collapsed underneath them and Bilbo found himself desperately trying to grab onto Thorin’s hand. Anything. He found purchase at Thorin’s sleeve as they slid down. He tried to keep hold but just as Bilbo was trying to stay with him, the king was writhing around trying to find his nephews and the rest of the company.

The other dwarves were screaming by them and Bilbo had barely caught sight of Ori tangled between Fili and Kili as they careened past. He reached his hand out to them but was too late to latch onto anything.

The impact with the ground snapped Bilbo’s hand back, losing whatever hold he had on Thorin. A swarm of goblins kept him from scrambling over to him. His yells were lost in a sea of incoherent words as they were grabbed at, pulled at violently. The goblins smelled of something disgusting that Bilbo didn’t bother trying to figure out. Their fingers were caked in dirt and blood, smearing it onto his coat and his lovely cotton shirt.

He fought against them, mirroring the actions of Thorin who had disappeared in the crowd of goblins. He thrashed about, hitting against every goblin he saw but it was no use. There were too many of them. Their body heat mingled with his, sending it into a panic and boiling it deep within him. He struggled to keep cool, keep conscious.

His coat suddenly felt heavier. Everything did. His clothes. The goblins. The air.

He felt lightheaded. Like he was on a cloud.

His knees buckled, sending him to the ground, legs flitting by him like he was nothing.

Then, suddenly, he was alone.

Bilbo looked up to find his companions and the goblins gone. They had taken them away. They had taken _Thorin_ away. He needed to get him back. He needed to make sure his king was safe.

He took in a deep breath and stood, unsheathing his sword, casting a blue glow around him. He marched forward, determination pushing aside the heat settling on his shoulders. The poorly managed bridge he was on rocked and creaked as he moved, sending an ominous chill down his spine. He forced away the fear in favor of focusing on Thorin.

Think about his hair.

His eyes.

His hands.

His voice.

Bilbo felt a surge of anger rush through him. His brows furrowed and he tightened his grip on his sword, knuckles turning dangerously white. He wanted to slit the throats of every goblin he came across, wanted to show them how angry he was. He wanted to show them what would happen if you endangered his friends, his family, his burglar, everything he cared about. The goblins would know what would happen if you crossed Thor—

A rogue goblin tackled him before he could finish that thought, hurtling them off of the bridge and down to the murky depths.

* * *

 

He stared curiously at the unfocused eyes looking at him—or where he should have been. Gollum was trying and failing to desperately find him even though he was standing right in front of him. Bilbo’s gaze slowly shifted from the unidentifiable creature huddled at his feet to the golden band shimmering around his finger. He was invisible to Gollum, perhaps to everyone as long as he kept the ring on. But it wasn’t his.  

Maybe he really was a burglar.

He pushed the dark thought from his mind in favor of straining his ears to hear the indistinguishable Khuzdul bouncing against the cavern walls. His heart thundered in his chest as he watched his companions zoom past him, away from him. They had gone by so fast that Bilbo didn’t have the chance to see Thorin run past—if he even did. The roar of goblins was not far behind them and Bilbo finally set his bones into motion.

He ran by Gollum, using his head as a boost. The creature called after him, screamed for him but Bilbo ignored him. He followed his friends’ voices down the tunnel, the darkness giving way to light. He emerged from the mountain and into the twilight and took in a deep breath. He had never thought he’d see the outside again.

He followed his companions down the slope, stumbling and staggering due to his eagerness. He fell against a tree ready to rip the ring from his finger.

Bilbo stopped the moment his name was mentioned, body immediately freezing and chilling his limbs. He helplessly shivered as he heard them ask about his last known location and whether he had uselessly gotten himself lost. He wrapped his trembling arms around himself as he waited for Thorin to say something, say that he was hopeless, worthless, a burden.

But he didn’t.

Bilbo peered around the corner to see the king’s eyebrows furrowed, coat slightly skewed and fingers tight around Orcrist. Beads of sweat cascaded down his reddened face and Bilbo finally noticed how he was more out of breath than the rest of his companions, his other hand pulling at his collar.

He was still experiencing erratic temperatures just like Bilbo had been in the cavern. He had struggled to keep his attention on Gollum as he rattled off riddles that needed his entire focus. The bouts of hot and cold had been making his knees shake and his fingers weaken on his sword. On several occasions, he was sure he would pass out and be eaten by the monster with his six decaying teeth. But he kept going, he survived. It was an experience he wouldn’t hesitate to wipe from his mind.

At Thorin’s lack of response, Bilbo took the ring from his finger and moved away from the tree. The chorus of gasps from the dwarves made him smile and step forward. He received a pat on the back by Gandalf who shared a knowing look with Balin and Dwalin. The other dwarves crowded around him, questioning why he had come back and he swiftly answered them with enthusiasm.

His eyes lingered on Thorin as he finished, savoring the small smile on the king’s face as he watched from behind the others. Bilbo pushed through his friends as he approached him, hand outstretched so that he could touch the king and make sure he was alright.

He was halted by the roar of wargs.

Then, they were running. Running. Running away from the sound, to somewhere Bilbo was sure would end eventually. Thorin had grabbed his hand, clutched it in his like he would never let go. Bilbo gripped back, shivering at their opposing temperatures. He wasn’t going to let the king out of his sight. Not again. He would make sure he was safe, unharmed.

They were stopped by wargs careening by them, blocking their path. The dwarves easily cut them down but they had wasted valuable time, time that determined their survival. Bilbo turned his head slightly to look at their pursuers and nearly froze. He had caught sight of a white warg confidently swaggering towards them and atop it sat a pale orc.

“Into the trees! Hurry!” Gandalf yelled as they finally neared the dead end Bilbo knew existed.

Almost automatically, Thorin hastily picked the hobbit up and thrown him onto a branch. Bilbo helped the king up and they began climbing. The cold chill of the air on his skin magnified the already subzero temperatures he was experiencing. A sudden shiver nearly made him miss a branch but Thorin caught him before he tumbled down the tree. He glanced around to see the other dwarves struggling to climb as well, Bombur and Balin at the bottom and Fili and Kili at the top.

He was abruptly pressed against the trunk of his tree, Thorin covering him protectively. The sudden heat surrounding him nearly made him stagger backwards but he pushed into it, wrapping his arms around the king. Thorin’s sweat slicked hair clung to Bilbo’s forehead and his neck was damp underneath his fingers.

In any other situation, Bilbo would have laughed at their ridiculous temperatures. Whenever he was cold, Thorin would be warm. They’d be able to balance each other out like they had been made for each other. What a silly idea.

Soon, flaming pinecones whirled past them both. Bilbo peered over the king’s shoulder to see several dwarves and Gandalf hurling fiery cones down at their feet, causing an intense fire to form around their trees. The wargs retreated, frightened by the burn. Fili and Kili let out cries of triumph with the Ur brothers following after.

They didn’t falter even as Azog approached on his white warg, sharing a powerful look with the King under the Mountain.  

Their yells were soon cut short by their trees toppling over, collapsing into the ones behind them. Bilbo and Thorin staggered and the hobbit was once again thrown onto another tree, this time the only one standing. He held his hand out to Thorin and the dwarf grabbed it as he jumped over. The new tree they were on could not handle the weight of all of the company and slowly began moving backwards.

Then, there was a moment of no gravity. Bilbo felt Thorin grab hold of his arms and circle them around the trunk of the tree, securing him safely as it buckled. He grunted when the tree finally fell, legs dangling in the air. He struggled to look about the tree, struggled to find his king but he felt a welcomed warmth to his right, signifying that the dwarf was beside him. They heard an orcish shout and that was when Thorin took in a sharp breath.

Bilbo met his eyes briefly before he moved to stand on top of the trunk, brandishing Orcrist. The hobbit watched helplessly as Thorin slowly walked down it to face the pale orc. Alone.

And that was when Bilbo realized it.

He loved Thorin with all of his heart. He loved being near him. He loved the smile he reserved only for him and his nephews, loved the gentle touches at his back or his arm. He loved Thorin’s devotion to his people, the unquestioned loyalty he had for his kingdom. He even loved his stubbornness and arrogance and the way he could easily get lost when given the simplest directions. He loved Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thrór, King under the Mountain.

And he was going to watch him die.

Bilbo let out a startled breath as he watched the dwarf charge. Both cried out when Thorin was drawn into the white warg’s mouth, fangs sinking into flesh. Bilbo’s grip on the tree nearly falter as pain erupted down his chest and back, mirroring the injuries the king was receiving. The hobbit strained to pick himself up, muscles screaming as he grasped at anything to right himself.

He finally made it to the top, staggering slightly to steady himself. He ignored Gandalf’s cries of protest as he unsheathed his sword, spreading its blue glow around him. He ignored the chill that trembled his knees and the frigid temperatures that made it difficult to hold his sword. He ignored the fires raging around him and the decaying tree beneath his feet. He ignored the fear tickling his skin. He focused on the motionless dwarf thrown carelessly to the side. He focused on the orc slowly moving towards him with its dagger raised. He focused on protecting his king.

With one final breath, he charged.

* * *

 

When Thorin’s arms circled around him, he was sure his knees would give. All the emotions he had pushed away to save him finally bubbled to the surface, blurring his eyes and burying his face in the king’s coat.

Thorin was ok. He was safe. He was _alive_.

Bilbo wanted to thank Aulë that he was safe, wanted to shout to the world that Thorin was alright. He just felt so _happy_.

Even as his inevitable confrontation with a dragon flickered to life at the back of his mind, he didn’t care. As long as Thorin was with him, he could take on anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. HATE. THIS. CHAPTER. 
> 
> It took me forever to finish it because I had the worst writer's block in the history of the universe and when I finally finished it I was left with this...garbage! Huuuuuuuuurrrrrrr
> 
> This chapter is so short because I'm pretty sure many of us have seen An Unexpected Journey about a billion times and also because I just couldn't think of anything else to put in it. I barely even managed to put the whole point of the chapter in it. Their fluctuating temperatures weren't as intense as I had hoped they would be but I really don't care anymore.
> 
> I'm pretty sure I'm going to like the next chapter though.
> 
> There's a river and Beorn's House in it.
> 
> **EDIT** : Ok, now that I've read the comments I kind of like my chapter now. Love y'all :3


	8. Need Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Need: A more intense form of Contact, Need is the period in which skin to skin contact is almost required at all times. Desperation overtakes the soul mates and they feel the need to remain in contact with one another. Most bond mates involuntarily express the desire to touch the other and at this point many bonds become discovered. 
> 
> Or: The chapter where Bilbo and Thorin are practically hormonal teenagers

Thorin was not in a good mood. Though, according to his loveable nephews, he was rarely ever in one but that was beside the point. And his mood wasn’t because of Azog. It wasn’t because of his injuries either even though he would have much rather had Oin stop poking and prodding him at the moment (he would never admit that it actually hurt). No, it was for an entirely different reason.

And said reason was helping Bombur attempt to make a decent meal.

He did not know when it had happened but he had somehow managed to fall in love with a Mr. Bilbo Baggins. It pained him to admit that he had found his One and didn’t even realize it. His One had been only a breath away this whole time and Thorin had failed to notice anything. He had failed to notice how close they had become and he had failed to notice how being away from the hobbit would always put him into such a terrible mood.

Perhaps he should get into more life or death situations seeing as though these particular scenarios always made him come to terms with his emotions.

It was when the floor had collapsed beneath him that he realized it. The moment Bilbo was torn from his arms he finally understood why that had angered him so much, why it had made him want to tear apart every goblin between him and his burglar.

Thorin let out a sigh, flinching as Oin hit a tender spot on his chest.

He also didn’t like the fact that he was itching to touch the hobbit. Of course, he wasn’t a hormonal teenager. He wouldn’t jump Bilbo in front of everyone just because of a silly impulse he had. But _Mahal_

Thorin’s fingers twitched as he tried to keep his hands to himself, focusing on Oin’s concentrated face as he bandaged his wounds for the evening. He tried to listen to the healer scold him about charging into battle alone but his mind kept wandering back to the hobbit. He didn’t know why he felt this way. The two were only mere feet away but it felt like they were both on different ends of Middle Earth.

Thorin pursed his lips in frustration, sighing and mirroring the hobbit as he twisted his hair around a finger in deep thought.  

This was ridiculous.

He began bouncing his knee, ignoring the obvious disapproval from Oin who was trying to carefully heal his king without reopening wounds. Thorin would have apologized but he _really didn’t care_ _at the moment_. He needed to keep himself busy or risk losing his self-control.  

If only his ancestors could see him now…

* * *

At Bilbo’s insistence, the company made camp at the river just below the Carrock. He made sure that they had all taken their clothes off and were in the water thoroughly washing the goblin stench and whatever smell _that_ was off of themselves. The Ur brothers had insisted on being the ones to clean all of their clothes so they were closer to the shore, dunking shirts and pants into the once clean water. Fili and Kili had somehow managed to drag Ori to the deeper section of the river, splashing about like they were children. The rest of the company was gathered near the middle, helping each other get clean.

So, as Bilbo tentatively waded into the water, he couldn’t help but overhear Oin scold Thorin for not standing still as he cleaned his wounds. Bilbo had silently promised himself that he would not look at the King under the Mountain for the duration of their bath but the moment he was mentioned had the hobbit’s eyes flickering to him.

Even waist deep in water, Thorin looked magnificent. He stood a head taller than most of his companions and it seemed like he had been born to be superior. His slightly damp hair was slung over one of his shoulders, allowing Oin better access to his wounds. Equally dark hair peppered his chest, trailing down his stomach and to the murky depths below. His skin glistened from the wet cloth Oin was swiping over him and Bilbo had to bite his lip to keep from walking over and dragging his hand over it.

He took in a sharp breath when Thorin twitched, causing the cloth to fall to the water. The king rolled his eyes as Oin yelled at him again and that spurred the hobbit into action.

He stepped over. “Perhaps I’ll have better luck trying?”

Oh, why did he just ask that?

Oin narrowed his eyes at him but let out an exasperated sigh. “Aye, go ahead lad.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but notice the scowl on the king’s face as he watched the healer leave. Bilbo lightly swatted his shoulder and took up the cloth, ringing it out and gently placing it on his skin. He nearly recoiled at Thorin’s sudden exhale but continued to glide the cloth over the puncture wounds, a heavy frown on his face.

It soon reddened with dried blood and Bilbo dunked it back into the water, noticing the slight tremble in his fingers. Thorin painstakingly slowly and almost teasingly dragged his hand down the hobbit’s arm, leaving sparks in his wake and Bilbo feeling suddenly lightheaded. He took in a deep breath and straightened up, working the cloth over the rest of the wounds and struggling to keep images of a motionless dwarf out of his mind.

The cloth slipped from his grasp the moment Thorin rested his hand against his hip. The dwarf’s touch was heavy, hypnotizing. Like a drug. His every touch tingled his very being, weakening his knees and emptying his mind. Every time their skin connected, Bilbo just wanted to throw himself into the king, give in to him, feed his addiction.

Bilbo dreamily brought his hand up and ran it down Thorin’s chest, smiling at the low rumble that bubbled in the king’s throat. His fingers traced the small puncture wounds, following their natural curve and frowning when he remembered the warg bite down. He ghosted over Thorin’s defined abs, lingering a little too long as he brought his hand back up.

The king’s own hands were gliding over him methodically, spreading his intense heat across his body and Bilbo knew the feeling would linger against his skin for the rest of the day, a silent reminder of the temptation that was Thorin Oakenshield. The large hands drifted a little lower and Bilbo didn’t even try to stop them. He wanted the king to take him right then and there.    

He vaguely noticed Fili and Kili wrestling in the water a little further on and he wanted to say something, wanted to tell them to be careful. But he was so captivated by the creature before him that he really didn’t care if they got themselves hurt. His lips parted to speak but he didn’t know why. He didn’t know what he was going to say.

Then, the words finally appeared in his head and he was powerless to stop them from coming out.

“I love you.”

Thorin’s hands froze against him and Bilbo’s eyes widened in shock. He backed up, nearly tripping on a shell and brought his hands to his mouth. He fixed his gaze on the water, shaking his head feverishly.

“Oh dear. I—I—I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. I…I’m sorry. Just forget that I ever said that. Please forgive me.” He stuttered.

Before Thorin could say anything, Bilbo hurried down the river and hid behind the tall rocks at the bank. He pressed against them, shivering at their cold chill and throwing his head into his hands.

He had ruined everything. He was stupid to even say that out loud. He had promised himself that he would hold his affection close to his heart and never speak of it again but his idiotic Tookish brain had confessed it to the last person he had ever wanted to know. He knew a king would never return his feelings. He was only a lowly hobbit from the Shire.

_But he just wanted to drag his hand down Thorin’s chest and kiss away his wounds, show him how much he loved him._

Bilbo nearly hit himself. He hated how he could still want Thorin’s touch even when he had just ruined their tentative friendship. He still wanted the king to press against him, shield him from the cold, wrap his arms around him. He still wanted Thorin’s hot hand to leave goose bumps in its wake, make his spine tingle as he slowly ran it up and down Bilbo’s back.

Oh gods.

Bilbo had a problem. There was something wrong with him.

He wanted, no, he _craved_ Thorin’s touch. He needed it so much that he would give anything for it. An arm, a leg, anything. He felt like he was going crazy without it, insane. He would have personally gone around the rock he had adopted as shelter and tackled the dwarf but his knees had weakened, causing him to grip the boulder behind him fervently. The world around him was spinning and blurring and it took Bilbo a moment to realize that he had started hyperventilating. His heart thundered in his chest for Thorin, King under the Mountain.

He needed him.

Oh, he very much needed him.

He really—

Suddenly, a tantalizing hand was pressed to his stomach, sliding upward and making Bilbo’s eyes flutter. He brought his own up, entangling them in Thorin’s hair and smiling at the growl that simmered behind the dwarf’s mouth. Each touch from the king was like a million stars exploding against his skin, hot and dangerous. He was left desiring more and more and more until there was nothing left to give.

But Bilbo would never grow tired of Thorin Oakenshield.

He took in a sharp breath when the king pressed his lips to his ear, nibbling gently and eliciting a quiet moan from the hobbit’s lips.

Then, he started talking, a low, gruff rumble against Bilbo’s skin. It took a moment for his mind to process that it wasn’t in Westron, that it wasn’t something he could understand. He felt the words tumble down his chest with each lingering touch, forcing his knees to nearly buckle and send him to the ground. He tightened his grip on Thorin’s arms as the words were repeated again, this time more firmly, more strongly.

 _“Men lananubukhs menu_. I love you too, Bilbo Baggins.”

“Wh—”

Thorin suddenly captured his lips with his own, a wet, hot heat that Bilbo pushed against and fed off of. He kissed back feverishly, one hand on Thorin’s shoulder and the other lost in his dark hair. His entire body moved on its own, pulling the dwarf closer and melting into the kiss. He felt Thorin’s arms circle around him, engulfing him in the excessive warmth that radiated off of the king’s wet skin.

Thorin nibbled at his bottom lip, pulling at it playfully and causing something to stir deep within Bilbo’s stomach. He opened his mouth, allowing the king to deepen the kiss and taste the sweet berries he had eaten earlier. He was pushed against the rock rather painfully and he was sure he would have scratches afterwards but it was entirely worth it.

He moaned in desperation when they separated, catching his breath quickly. He pulled the dwarf back down, kissing him soundly and loving the possessive growl that radiated from the king’s throat. He shuddered as Thorin’s hands dragged down his spine, lingering at the curve of his back and sliding lower and lower until—

Bilbo’s hand drifted to Thorin’s side and squeezed lightly, forcing the dwarf to let out a pained groan and involuntarily flinch backwards.

“I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?” The hobbit gasped as he tried to catch his breath.

Thorin shook his head, damp hair throwing bullets of water around him. “I’m just a little…bruised.”

Bilbo’s hand ghosted over the tender spot and frowned when the king’s eye twitched. “’A little’ in an understatement, Thorin. Perhaps we should have Oin—”

“No.” Thorin said roughly as he pressed into the hobbit, backing him against the rock again. His circled his arms protectively around his waist and pressed his forehead to his.

“You have open wounds, you stubborn oaf of a dwarf.” Bilbo frowned as he eyed the marks on the king’s chest, sighing when he noticed some begin to bleed again. “Oin needs to—”

“I want to stay like this.” He interrupted firmly, tightening his grip on the hobbit. “Just for a little longer,”

Bilbo had to admit that he was also reluctant to separate from the dwarf. The heat that had been growing between his thighs was also an influential factor and Bilbo really wanted to continue where they had left off. However, one of them had to be the responsible adult in this situation and it would obviously not be the royal standing in front of him.

Knowing that he was giving in, Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Ok but nothing overly strenuous.”

The king chuckled, a soft sound that was music to Bilbo’s ears. After a quiet moment (well, quiet by dwarven standards), Thorin asked, “When did you realize it?”

“Hmm?”

“That you loved me,”

“When you recklessly threw yourself at Azog,” Bilbo smiled even though he lightly smacked Thorin’s shoulder. “I realized that I relatively liked your pigheadedness.”

“And I thought that you only liked me for my good looks,”

“There’s that too.” He laughed as he tugged one of his dark braids for emphasis. “I like your hair.”

“I realized I loved you when we were falling down the mountain.” Thorin smirked as he nuzzled the hobbit’s neck.  

“How romantic,”

“I grew irrationally angry at our separation.” The king murmured against him. “I wanted to tear apart the whole mountain to find you.” Bilbo soothingly ran his fingers through the king’s dark mane, making him sigh softly.

“Dwarves…dwarves only love once, right?” He asked hesitantly.

“You’re my One and only.” Thorin whispered as he pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s neck. He pulled back slightly and narrowed his eyes at the smaller creature. “Is that a problem?”

“N-No, I just…I just…can’t believe that you love me too. Out of all the people in Middle Earth you fell in love with an ordinary, lowly hobbit like myself. There’s nothing special about—why are you looking at me like that?”

“I had first thought of your modesty as charming but now I see that it is one of your tragic flaws. There is nothing ordinary about you, Bilbo Baggins. No ordinary person would risk their life to go on a journey with 13 strangers to take back a kingdom he had never heard about. No ordinary person would bravely put their life on the line to save another. And no ordinary person would agree to face a monstrous dragon by themselves.” Thorin pressed his lips to Bilbo’s to cement his claim, pulling him closer and tightening his grip on him.

Bilbo blushed a deep shade of red but smiled widely when they separated, carting his fingers through the dwarf’s hair. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself when Thorin flinched again, body twitching when he tried to lean against the rock. The hobbit frowned and took his hand, moving around the rock and leading them back to the others.

Thorin sighed when he saw his nephews grin and give him the thumbs up. He sighed again when Oin leveled him with a fiery glare as Bilbo rattled on about his injuries. But this time he sighed contently when he noticed the lingering blush against Bilbo’s cheeks and the small hobbit hand that had settled at his back.

* * *

 

Bilbo immediately woke up the moment he was suddenly pulled back against a warm body. He grunted when Thorin’s arms tightened around him, almost painfully so. He tried to put some distance between them but the dwarf’s strong arms kept him in place. He looked around to find it very much nighttime and rolled his eyes.

The king buried his face in Bilbo’s curls, murmuring something under his breath. He tightened his grip again and Bilbo was sure he was going to have bruises around his stomach where Thorin’s hands were. He turned his head to try to look at the dwarf behind him but only saw his dark mane of hair spilled over his shoulders.

Bilbo was almost 100 percent certain that Thorin was still asleep. He was pretty sure the king would never hold him this desperately, this roughly if he was conscious.

The dwarf whispered something again and Bilbo barely caught the tail end of it when he turned his head. “…won’t hurt him.”

The hobbit shimmied in Thorin’s powerful grip and managed to turn around to fully face him. The king’s brows were pulled together in anguish, lips thrown downward into a frown. Bilbo ran his fingers over the wrinkles on his face and whispered, “Thorin, wake up.”

The king grunted in response and pulled him even closer. Bilbo just scarcely managed to keep his hands from connecting with the bandages on his chest at the sudden tug, resting them at his shoulders instead. He didn’t understand why Thorin wasn’t awake by now. He was surely aggravating his injuries with the forcefulness of this hug.

“Thorin,” He tried again. “Thorin,”

_Would be lost without him_

“Thorin!” He said louder, slightly puzzled by the way his skin was tingling underneath the king’s fingertips.

_Have to keep him safe_

“I need you to wake up now.” Bilbo said, voice shaking slightly.

_Can’t lose him_

“I won’t.” The dwarf mumbled, burying his head in the hobbit’s neck.

_But he did_

Bilbo found his throat drying up. Words were strangely becoming difficult to form and he struggled to even say the king’s name. “Tho—”

_Too weak to defend him. Couldn’t protect him. Dead. Gone. His fault. Worthless. Useless. Couldn’t save him._

_Bilbo was dead._

Bilbo gasped the moment Thorin’s arms relaxed. He pushed the hair out of the king’s face and nearly recoiled at the pure terror in his eyes. Thorin sat up abruptly, separating himself from the hobbit. He ran a hand over his face and let out a wobbly breath, biting his lip and drawing blood. Bilbo slowly followed him up and gently placed his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. Thorin immediately flinched away and stood up, hurrying into the darkness with his sword at his side.

Bilbo quickly followed him after waving away a frantic Dori who had been on watch. He found the king kneeling over the river, dragging his hand through the water. He splashed his face several times before slumping to the ground dejectedly. Bilbo tentatively approached him, intentionally making sound so that Thorin knew he was behind him.

Thorin turned his head to look at him but didn’t wave him away. On any other night, his eyes would have been illuminated by the moonlight but tonight his eyes were dark, tired, magnified by his heavy frown. Thorin absently ran his hand over one of his bandages as Bilbo sat down, smiling at him timidly.

“Are you alright?” The hobbit asked quietly, resting his palm on the king’s knee.

Thorin covered it with his own, squeezing gently. “Did I hurt you?”

“I—no—of course not.” He sputtered. “You just held on a little too tightly.”

The dwarf looked away silently, hand falling away from Bilbo’s.

“B-But I’m ok. Hobbits aren’t that fragile. I swear you dwarves think that you can crush everything.” He smiled as he moved closer, replacing Thorin’s hand over his.

“I…I…” The dwarf let out a frustrated huff, eyes hesitantly meeting Bilbo’s. “This is…I don’t…”

Thorin finally gave up, clamping his eyes shut and turning his head away.

Bilbo knew he was having a difficult time finding his words. The dwarf was never really one for them even though he was able to pull off a great speech when the situation demanded it. He was never fond of expressing himself and Bilbo knew it was hard for him to ever really say what he was feeling. Though, he didn’t exactly know why. Perhaps that was just the way the dwarf worked. Maybe he was born that way or perhaps the loss of Erebor had hit him harder than the hobbit had thought.

Thorin’s emotions were probably on a rampage within him after whatever nightmare he had had. Bilbo only wished that he knew what it was. Actually, he strangely thought that he did. At the back of his mind he could feel that it had been about him. He didn’t know for what reason but he knew he had gone through something horrific. This may have just been something he was imagining but Bilbo felt it in his _heart_.

He crawled closer, frowning at the fact that the king still had yet to open his eyes. He placed his hand on Thorin’s shoulder and gulped when he let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry. I can’t—” The king stopped himself before finding his words again. “I can’t look at you right now.”

“Why?” The hobbit asked gently.

It seemed like ages before Thorin spoke again. “My nightmare was about you, losing you. I couldn’t do anything to stop it or protect you. I was…a failure.”

Bilbo pursed his lips before climbing onto the dwarf’s lap, straddling him. He tenderly ran his hand over the king’s cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “That wasn’t real. I’m right here, Thorin. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself. You saw that with Azog. Or, well, you did before you passed out. I won’t go down that easily.”

Thorin sighed at the gentle touches but had still refused to open his eyes. He also noticeably kept his hands at his sides and _away_ from Bilbo. They were clenched into tight fists, knuckles a chalky white. That was when Bilbo realized that the king _wanted_ to touch him but kept himself from doing so for some odd and probably ludicrous reason.

_Didn’t want to hurt him_

“Look at me.” He whispered, running his hands over Thorin’s bare chest and making sure he wasn’t pressing too hard on the bandages.

The king trembled beneath him but somehow managed to keep himself still. “I—”

“At least touch me,” He begged almost desperately. “ _Please,”_

Bilbo followed the prominent bob of Thorin’s Adam’s apple as the king gulped. He slowly brought his hands up and rested them at Bilbo’s waist, a warm pressure he welcomed wholeheartedly. His skin pleasantly buzzed underneath his clothes, wishing for more contact. However, Thorin’s touch was ghostly, barely there. Like he was only hovering.

“Now, I need you to look at me.” Bilbo said as he placed his hand over the king’s eyes. “Open your eyes. I need you to.”

The soft tickle of eyelashes fluttering told him that Thorin had obeyed his command. He removed his hand hesitantly and let out a breath of relief. He was finally met by Thorin’s electrifying sapphire eyes that were wild and childlike. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the king’s lips, smiling as Thorin tightened his grip on his waist albeit very carefully and rather slowly.

Thorin finally kissed back, pushing up into the hobbit and deepening the kiss. He let out a quiet sigh when they separated with Bilbo blushing and grinning like a giddy idiot.

“Don’t be afraid.” The hobbit breathed as he smoothed out the wrinkles on the king’s face. “I’ll always be here.”

The king nodded resolutely. He fixed his gaze on the buttons (or what was left of the buttons) of Bilbo’s knackered waistcoat and remained silent, running a hand up and down his back. Bilbo shuddered beneath his fingers, relishing the electricity running through his veins at every touch from the dwarf.

_He wanted him to keep going_

_Further and further until Bilbo was broken, ravished_

_Wanted him all to himself_

Bilbo didn’t know when he had ended up on his back with Thorin settling comfortable between his legs. He didn’t mind though. He hurriedly helped the dwarf remove his waistcoat and suspenders, smiling at the fire reigniting in the king’s eyes.

_Would let him do anything_

_Anything he wanted_

Thorin slowly and playfully unbuttoned Bilbo’s shirt, making the hobbit writhe underneath him impatiently, hastily wanting his bare touch. Thorin dipped his head, sucking at the smooth curve of Bilbo’s neck and releasing it with a satisfying pop. He fully removed the shirt and Bilbo immediately wrapped his arms around the dwarf’s neck, pulling him down and flush against his chest.

Their kiss was wet, sloppy, desperate yet passionately intense like a bolt of lightning hitting a tree, blazing and destructive. It was like a touch from either of them ignited a fire deep within them, burning and fueling their souls. Like they were trying to reach out to each other. Trying to be whole again.

“I assume that you’re …ok now?” Bilbo gasped when they separated.

“Very much so,” Thorin murmured as he replaced his mouth over the darkening bruise at the hobbit’s neck.

Bilbo dragged his hand across the dwarf’s back, hand rising and falling as it ghosted over raised scars and pristine skin. He bit his lip to keep from moaning when Thorin traced his ear with his tongue, hot breath brushing against the sensitive skin. Bilbo teased at the hem of the dwarf’s pants, shuddering when Thorin did the same with his. Their eyes met in silent agreement with Bilbo kissing him frantically as he felt his trousers begin to slide off.

Then, Bilbo yawned.

The laugh that erupted from Thorin’s lips would have awoken the rest of their companions if they had been by the campsite. Bilbo reddened with embarrassment but soon joined him, giggling stupidly and uncontrollably.

After righting their clothes, they stumbled back to their bedrolls as quietly as they could, settling down comfortably with Bilbo tucked tenderly against the king’s side. And Bilbo slept quite peacefully, knowing that he had a dwarven king held close to his heart.        

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed this chapter. :P
> 
> I guess I was trying to show that their touches could be both distracting and comforting but I sure as hell know I won't be getting the Pulitzer prize for it. 
> 
> I also kind of showed the many sides of Thorin Oakenshield. I think. 
> 
> THIS IS WHY I'M NOT A PROFESSIONAL AUTHOR
> 
> Next Chapter: Someone finally tells them


	9. Need Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Need: A more intense form of Contact, Need is the period in which skin to skin contact is almost required at all times. Desperation overtakes the soul mates and they feel the need to remain in contact with one another. Most bond mates involuntarily express the desire to touch the other and at this point many bonds become discovered.

Thorin sighed.

His eyes were on the map but he wasn’t reading it at all. Gandalf was rattling on about the need to move through Mirkwood to reach Erebor and that he would have to separate with them at the entrance to the forest. Dwalin had asked why but the grey wizard waved his question away. He pointed at the elven king’s domain and that was when Thorin finally voiced his opinion.

He had remained relatively quiet throughout the conversation, enjoying the barest hint of Bilbo’s voice across the lawn.

He had smiled when he saw the hobbit sitting underneath a tree with a fussing Kili between his legs. He was combing through his nephew’s matted hair while Fili watched on, leaning against Bilbo’s shoulder. Thorin really wanted to be over there watching the hobbit tend to his nephew’s hair than listen to Balin and Dwalin argue about Thranduil.

The sunlight was scattered by the leaves of the large tree Bilbo was situated under, peppering his skin with shadows and light. There was a soft smile on his lips as he braided Kili’s hair and Thorin let out another sigh. He _really_ wanted to be over there.

“We must go through Mirkwood.” He said after Balin voiced his concerns, finally reeling himself back into the conversation. “If we move quickly and smartly we will pass through undetected.”

“Yes and I must warn you of the dangers that will be presented to you in the forest.” Gandalf added with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Why can’t anything ever be easy?” Dwalin grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Mirkwood is no ordinary forest. It…”

Thorin’s eyes drifted over to Bilbo again. The hobbit’s face had reddened at some point probably from something one of his darling nephews had said. He wished he knew what Bilbo was thinking. He wanted to know what was on the hobbit’s mind, wanted to know—

 _…his hair only looked like Thorin’s. After that the resemblance was nonexistent. Fili’s hair, on the other hand, felt more like his Uncle’s. It reminded Bilbo of the soft, silky texture of Thorin’s dark mane and if he closed his eyes he could pretend it was his. This was how Bilbo realized that Fili and Kili both equally displayed the traits of their Uncle. Kili’s hair was as dark as Thorin’s but Fili’s actually felt like it. Fili’s eyes were a bright azure while Kili’s were a deep brown. Fili was as responsible as his Uncle and Kili was just as playful. Though, Thorin had to be in a really good mood for him to be teasing. And when he was,_ Aulë _, he was irresistible._  

“Thorin,”

“Hmm?” He looked up to find his companions staring at him as though they were waiting for him to say something.

“I know this isn’t the most entertaining conversation but please pay attention, laddie.” Balin sighed. “Gandalf asked if your injuries were healing well.”

“My wounds are no issue.” He replied shortly.

“He says.” Dwalin mumbled. “He can barely focus on us. His eyes keep going back to the hobbit.”

“Is there something you want to say to me?” Thorin asked, frowning.

“Actually, yes.” The tattooed dwarf straightened up, ignoring his brother’s hand at his arm. “For the past few days you’ve been acting like this journey doesn’t matter anymore. It’s like you’ve forgotten about Erebor.”

“Forgotten about Erebor?” Thorin repeated slowly. “I am the last person to forget my homeland. I watched as the dragon destroyed Dale, burned my people, and took what was rightfully ours. I have not forgotten this quest, Dwalin.”

“It seems like you have. You couldn’t even give us your full attention while we were talking about Mirkwood. If you actually cared you would have given your own opinion on the path we were taking. You would have said something about the tree-shagger. But no. All you care about is our burlgar.”

“Master Baggins has nothing to do with this.” He snapped, raising his voice slightly.

“Dwalin…” Balin warned quietly.

“No, Thorin. He has everything to do with this. You know—”

“I understand that you are in a foul mood. I know Ori has rejected you but you do not have to take it out on me.”

Dwalin seemed at a loss for words. His hands clenched into fists and he frowned deeply. Thorin narrowed his eyes at him, daring him to say anything else, daring him to refute his claim.

But he didn’t and the king walked away.

 xXx

“So, Uncle Bilbo,” Fili began as he adjusted himself against the hobbit’s shoulder. “Since you and Uncle are _finally_ a thing, can Kili and I call you uncle?”

“I don’t understand why you even asked that question. You both have already taken the liberty of titling me as such.” He muttered in deep concentration, threading his fingers through Kili’s dark hair.

“So you don’t mind?” The younger dwarf between his legs asked with a turn of his head, grinning wildly.

“Of course not,” Bilbo sighed, turning Kili back around so that he could continue braiding his hair.

After a few days on the road, the company had managed to make it to Beorn’s house and Bilbo was _amazed_. There were giant bees and a garden that spanned the perimeter of the large house littered with flowers and insects. The hot sun was a welcoming feeling against his skin and he had been happy to spend much of his time outside with the plants.

The garden reminded him of his own and he felt nostalgic just sitting on the grass. The only difference from the Shire was that he had one dwarven prince in his lap and another leaning against his shoulder. He had frowned at the messiness of the brothers’ hair after they had settled down in the house and had taken it upon himself to comb through it and make sure they looked presentable.

He felt like a doting mother as he untangled Kili’s hair with Fili patiently waiting for his turn. But it was a nice feeling. He liked how he had to constantly remind Kili to stay still and to tell Fili to not lean too heavily on the hobbit so that he could properly groom his brother. It was a welcome distraction from their perilous journey.

“I’m glad you two are together.” Fili whispered, nuzzling Bilbo’s shoulder like a cat.

“Uncle seems happier.” His brother added. “He hasn’t been like this for a while.”

“He smiles more.” Fili paused. “It’s nice to see him like this.”

“I can’t be the sole reason he’s in a lighter mood.” Bilbo said, flushing slightly. His eyes flickered over Kili’s shoulder to where the king stood with Gandalf, Balin, and Dwalin near the front of the house. They were leaning over the map intently as they quietly whispered to one another. Bilbo very much wished Thorin was at _his_ side and not theirs.

“You are.” Kili frowned, digging his fingers into the dirt beneath him.

“Uncle used to talk of Erebor like it was the most important thing in the world. It was his duty to retake our home and we couldn’t wait for the day that we could see his eyes light up at the return of his kingdom. His stories were always intriguing and so loving that we would do anything to help him get our home back. But the light that we were waiting to ignite in his eyes flares whenever he looks at you. He looks at you like…like…” Fili furrowed his brows as he tried to find the right word.

“Like you are the Arkenstone.” His brother finished. “Erebor isn’t his obsession anymore. He can actually _live_ again.”

Blushing, Bilbo eyes drifted back to Thorin who somehow felt his gaze on him. The king looked up from the map and smiled at him, winking before returning his attention to his companions. Bilbo’s heart fluttered pleasantly in his chest and he had to resist the urge to cross the rather large distance between them and kiss the dwarf until he was breathless.

“You don’t mean that.” He said weakly, attempting and failing at creating a braid he had seen Thorin weave into his nephew’s hair in Rivendell.

“We do!” Both brothers said in unison.

“Reclaiming Erebor would mean nothing without you by Uncle’s side.” Fili said resolutely.

“Uncle would just never say this because he is the most emotionally constipated person in existence and he would rather stare at you blankly for hours than say what was on his mind.” Kili added with a smirk.

Bilbo suddenly felt like running his fingers over Thorin’s chest and watch as they rose and fell over his scars. He wanted to feel the contrast between the battle worn skin and his own, wanted to kiss away whatever pain the king had felt when he received the wounds. He—

“Uncle Bilbo!” Kili yelled and the hobbit suddenly realized that he had been pulling on the dwarf’s hair for an unknown length of time.

“I’m sorry, little wolf.” He smiled apologetically. His eyes flickered back to the group at the front of the house. “This is all so…Thorin and I haven’t even been together for that long. He can’t possibly feel this strongly about me.”

“Dwarves love once and only once.” Fili said seriously. “We are a passionate people and that is reflected in the way we love someone. We know Uncle probably isn’t thinking this at the moment but he’s on his way. We can tell. But I wasn’t joking about the fact that dwarves love only once. If Uncle truly feels that you are his One and that he would want to spend the rest of his life with you—”

“And he does!” Kili interrupted, receiving a strong tug of his hair.

“—then he’ll give you something. That will be the beginning of the courtship. If you accept his gift then you accept him.” Fili finished proudly.

“…What will he give me?” Bilbo swallowed down the childlike excitement bubbling in his throat.

“That is all up to him. Seeing as though he isn’t able to properly make something, he’ll probably have to give you something he already has.” Kili grinned as he was ushered out of Bilbo’s lap.

The two brothers switched places, Kili leaning against the hobbit and Fili planted between his legs.

“What do hobbits do if they want to court someone?”

“We normally give small gifts. Nothing grand or spectacular. Just flowers or a nice meal or something along the lines of that. The first gift is usually a flower that properly encompasses the kind of relationship the two people have.” Bilbo decided that the best way to keep his heart at bay was to put his entire focus on Fili’s golden hair.

_Though he would much rather be threading his fingers through Thorin’s_

“What are you going to give him?” Kili asked, bouncing against the hobbit’s side.

“I actually don’t know.” He admitted, glancing up to see Thorin idly listening to Dwalin shout something into his ear. “Oh dear. I wonder what happened over there.”

Two dwarven heads popped up to see their Uncle pointedly glare at the bald dwarf yelling at him, snapping back words with equal fervor. Gandalf and Balin had tactfully kept themselves out of the argument, standing off to the side and whispering to each other occasionally. Whatever the two dwarves were quarrelling about seemed important and Bilbo knew Thorin would never allow himself to display this much emotion unless it was a touchy subject.

Bilbo’s eyebrows furrowed. Dwalin shouldn’t be talking to him like that. He wasn’t in his right mind. He was hurting and Thorin knew that but—

“Ow! Uncle Bilbo!”

The hobbit immediately released Fili’s hair when he realized he had been pulling too hard _again_. “I’m so sorry. I suppose I was too distracted by whatever they were talking about.”

“We’ll be finding out soon.” Kili mumbled, nodding towards the angry dwarf stomping over to the trio.

Bilbo’s met Thorin’s electrified eyes and smiled softly. The king frowned deeply and Bilbo felt thoroughly confused until he saw Dwalin stomping after his friend. Thorin furrowed his eyebrows and turned around to meet him, hand twitching against Orcrist. That spurred Bilbo into motion and he scrambled upward, hurrying towards the enraged dwarves.

He arrived at the same time as Dwalin, placing himself between the two defiantly. Thorin’s hand settled against his hip and he had to keep himself from turning around and kissing him senseless. The electricity buzzing beneath Thorin’s touch was addicting, distracting, wonderful and Bilbo had to make sure he didn’t get lost in the light touch that felt so pleasantly heavy.

“Whatever is going on between you two needs to stop right now.” He said firmly.

Dwalin snorted and moved closer. Bilbo placed his hand on the dwarf’s chest and heard Thorin growl behind him. “Lad, you have no idea what’s going on.”

“But I can see where it’s going.” He countered, eyes flickering to the tight grip Dwalin had on his sword.

“He’s bitter because Ori didn’t want him.” Thorin murmured.

“I am. I admit that I am and I am reminded of it every time I look at you two. I see how happy you two are and I…I want that. You were literally made for each other. There was no doubt that you would be together. I wanted Ori and me to be like that. I wanted a soul mate too.” Dwalin whispered.

“What?” They both sputtered out in unison.

The bald dwarf’s eyes widened in realization and he glanced over his shoulder to see his brother frowning at him in exasperation. Gandalf let out a tired sigh and started his way towards the three. Dwalin turned back to the two soul mates, finding Bilbo staring at the ground uncertainly and Thorin staring at him as though he had just blatantly lied to his face.

“We aren’t soul mates.” Bilbo said feebly.

“They don’t exist anymore.” Thorin frowned.

“That’s what I said.” Dwalin sighed, shoulders sagging.

“But—”

“It appears we need to have a little chat, don’t we?” Gandalf smiled, tilting his head mischievously.

* * *

 

“So, you’re saying that the moment Thorin and I looked at each other our bond was created?” Bilbo repeated dubiously, eying the two sitting in front of him sans Dwalin who had stalked off somewhere. “Don’t you think we would have noticed anything?”

“Not necessarily,” Gandalf said, waving his hand in the air. “Most soul mates notice their bond during the later stages. It is entirely common for you to not see it.”

“I’m sorry if I don’t follow. Soul mates were only ever mentioned a few times in the Shire.” He smiled weakly, entwining his fingers with Thorin’s beside him.

“I must admit that they are a dying breed. Once upon a time they were everywhere. It is stated that Yavanna, Aulë or Mahal’s wife grew irrationally angry at something her husband did. It is not entirely known what but most believe he had restricted part of her powers. In retaliation, she tore his newly created souls in two and scattered them across Middle Earth. By the time Aulë noticed, she had broken an ample amount of souls. These souls were destined to find each other and make themselves whole again.

“And these stages are a result of halved souls readjusting to each other. You two share a connection that people only ever dream of. Your minds are linked emotionally and mentally. This is why you are always conveniently awake whenever Thorin has a nightmare.” Gandalf finished with a knowing smile.

Thorin narrowed his eyes at the wizard but remained silent. His gaze flickered to the hobbit beside him who was quietly absorbing everything Gandalf was saying. Thorin bit his lip, eyes falling back to the ground.

_He was making Bilbo suffer too_

“ _Thorin_ ,” Bilbo’s head suddenly lifted up and gave the king an incredulous look. “Don’t think that you are ruining my sleeping pattern because of nightmares you cannot control.”

The dwarf met his eyes solemnly, opening his mouth to say something but thought against it. He sighed inwardly and returned his gaze to the floor.

“This is what I mean.” Gandalf said, motioning between the two. “Additionally, there has been a natural attraction between you two ever since you’ve met. You are drawn to each other.”

Bilbo should have smiled at that. He should have felt giddy or joyous but he didn’t. Did that mean he was programed to love Thorin? No matter what he did he would have to love Thorin? Was this all a lie? Did he _actually_ love Thorin? Or was he just forced to?

The suddenly sharp intake of breath beside him tore him from his thoughts. He turned to the king in question and was taken aback by the pure emotion swirling in his dark eyes, a heavy frown at his lips. He wanted to kiss it away, wanted to smooth out the tired wrinkles around Thorin’s face, wanted to tell him how much he loved him.

But did he actually _want_ to do that?

 Bilbo swiftly stood up, hand falling away from Thorin’s. He ran from the house, ignoring Fili and Kili’s questions as he passed the duo patiently waiting on a bench. He rounded the house, hurrying through the garden and into a field of flowers. He stopped to catch his breath, hands on his knees as he struggled to wrap his head around everything.

He already had trouble accepting the fact that someone as regal and as magnificent as Thorin Oakenshield would fall in love with someone as plain and as ordinary as Bilbo Baggins. And now they were soul mates? How could that have been possible? Out of everyone on Middle Earth he had to be bonded to someone who deserved better than him and he had failed to notice the subtle and gentle pushes he was receiving that threw him towards Thorin.

Yes, they had been close but Bilbo had thought it was because they had generally liked each other’s company. But now…now it seemed like they had been forced to be attracted to each other. Like regardless of Bilbo’s opinion he would be tied to Thorin for the rest of his life.

It wasn’t that he was opposed to the idea. A life with Thorin felt like a blessing and Bilbo barely cared about the fact that the dwarf was King under the Mountain.

He loved the stubborn idiot but…was it because _he_ did or someone else wanted him to?

Would he have fallen in love with Thorin anyway had they not been soul mates?

How influential was the bond?

Could it—

Bilbo froze.

He straightened up and squeezed his eyes shut. He knew—no, he _felt_ Thorin coming towards him. Now that he knew what was between them, he could feel the metaphysical string tying them together. It thinned when they weren’t near each other and was set ablaze when they touched. It was like a quiet buzzing in the back of Bilbo’s head, a compass telling him his soul mate’s general direction.

He took in a deep breath and turned around, meeting Thorin’s cobalt gaze with his own as he approached. Just like in any other stressful situation, the king’s face was blank, masking his true emotions and hiding his intentions. Bilbo had a feeling that if he actually tried, he could find out what the dwarf was really thinking. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t.

With each step he took, Thorin’s presence slowly became too much for the hobbit. For some reason, it felt like a pressure pressing down on him making his knees shake and his fingers tremble. Thorin radiated power and intimidation and Bilbo couldn’t understand why he was feeling it all of a sudden. He had been around the dwarf for quite some time now and he had never felt like this before. He had never _felt_ Thorin’s existence.

It was the bond.

Now that Bilbo knew they had one he could finally see and feel what he had failed to notice before. He could feel the subtle hum of his skin as it itched for Thorin’s touch. He could feel the string binding them tighten as the dwarf moved closer. He felt his own “aura” clash with Thorin’s, mingling and sparking against it until they reached a peaceful balance, a beautiful equilibrium that made Bilbo yearn for the king, yearn for his attention.

But Bilbo hesitated the moment Thorin finally stood in front of him. This was all the bond’s doing. _It_ was making _him_ feel this way. He wasn’t feeling this on his own.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, voice cracking slightly and breaking the tense silence around them. Only the quiet hum of the insects and birds could be heard. “I’m just so confused.”

Thorin tilted his head curiously, dark hair tumbling effortlessly over his shoulder. “Why?”

“I don’t…I don’t want to love you because I have to. I want to love you because I want to. And this bond is making it seem like I’m not in control of myself. Like I don’t have a choice.” He swallowed thickly.

Thorin let out a deep sigh, shoulders rising and falling with the exhale. He looked away briefly, contemplating something Bilbo felt somewhere in the pit of his stomach. The king then lifted his hand, burying it in his coat and removing his necklace. The key to the hidden door of Erebor glinted underneath the sunlight, corroded and bare yet deeply important and sentimental.

He took the hobbit’s hand and Bilbo had to bite his lip to keep from being distracted by his suddenly racing heart. Thorin gently placed the key in his palm, enclosing Bilbo’s fingers around it and causing his soul mate to gasp.

“I had planned on giving this to you under better circumstances but I find it appropriate to give it to you now. Had we the time, I would have properly made you something to show my affections but this will need to suffice for now.” He paused, running his hand up Bilbo’s arm. “I give this to you to show you that I love you. I trust you with my life and with my heart.”

Bilbo’s lips trembled as he stared at the key held tightly in his hand. He took in a shallow breath, eyes lifting back to the dwarf in front of him.

“And it is your choice to accept me or not.”

That was when Bilbo hit the breaking point. Tears rolled down his cheeks like falling stars, shimmering brightly even as they fell. “How—how do you know? How do you know that you want to be with me? What if it’s just the bond and we don’t—”

“I love you, Bilbo Baggins. And that will never change regardless of the existence of a bond. I fell in love with your inability to put yourself above others, your insatiable need to mother my nephews, your fascination with flowers, your irresistible curls and I can go on and on, Bilbo. I think the bond only pushed me in the right direction. It made me see what I probably would never have noticed without it.”

The hobbit sniffled, putting the key around his neck. “And I…and I love you too, you romantic oaf. I accept this gift and I accept you.”

Bilbo brought a shaking hand up to cup Thorin’s cheek, running his thumb over his rough beard. The bright smile that touched the dwarf’s lips suddenly threw Bilbo to his knees, falling to the ground rather gracelessly. His entire body shook with something he couldn’t place. He tried to contain himself but he was unable to do anything to stop the influx of emotion. Thorin followed him down, sharing in his puzzled expression and resting a slightly unsteady hand at his arm.

“Do you feel that?” He gasped.

Thorin nodded with furrowed brows.

It was like every emotion was converging within them, mirroring the hectic night at Bag End. But this time there were no negative emotions. Happiness. Bliss. Joy. Need. Pleasure. Delight. _Acceptance_.

Thorin suddenly pressed his lips to Bilbo’s and the hobbit whimpered into the kiss, one hand dragging down the king’s chest and the other clinging to his shoulder. He allowed the dwarf to settle him in his lap and Bilbo felt wonderfully surrounded by Thorin. His intense heat was a catalyst that fed the fire of his touch, fingers leaving streaks of flaming want in their wake.

They parted for air and Bilbo didn’t bother hiding his wide grin. He felt so…so…giddy all of a sudden. He touched the key at his chest and asked, “Do you really trust me with this? I-I mean, it’s the legacy of your people.”

Thorin nodded, pressing his forehead to Bilbo’s. “I trust you with my life. I apologize if this gift is too modest. I lack the proper tools to make you anything.”

“Oh, Thorin, it’s—” He stopped himself. “That’s it!”

Bilbo jumped to his feet, scanning the ground for the flower he needed. He cheered inwardly when he found a group of the purple flower bunched around a nest of tulips, contrasted by the white hue of carnations. He picked a bundle and returned to the dwarf who had a humorously confused look on his face.

Bilbo replaced himself in Thorin’s lap and held up the flowers. “In my culture, the first courting gift is a flower that perfectly encompasses the relationship the two people have. And I’ve chosen violets.”

Thorin gazed at the flowers thoughtfully, grazing a finger over the soft petals. “What do they mean?”

“Modesty,” He blushed, fixing his gaze on the buttons of Thorin’s tunic. “A-And faithfulness and loyalty. I remember you telling me that you enjoyed my modesty, though to a certain extent, and I am and will forever be loyal to my King under the Mountain.”

Thorin smiled again and Bilbo felt himself go weak in the knees. Luckily he was already settled into the dwarf’s lap when it happened.

“Do you know that I love you, _Ghivashel?_ ” He murmured, kissing the hobbit soundly.

Bilbo shivered beneath the king’s touch, a blazing heat spreading down his spine with each touch. He purred as Thorin’s hand slipped down his pants to slide underneath his shirt, pressing heated fingers to Bilbo’s back and sending his entire mind into a state of unrest, his entire body begging for Thorin’s touch.

“What…what…what does…does…” He trailed off as Thorin’s hand ran up and down his spine, sending goose bumps across his body.

“Hmm?” The dwarf murmured, kissing down his neck and settling at his collarbone.

“I wanted to…to…” He gasped, Thorin’s fingers drumming gently at the curve of his back.  

Bilbo gave up on talking, deciding to ask the dwarf what the word meant at a later date. He drew Thorin back up, flowers forgotten to the wind, and captured his lips, eliciting a low groan from his mate. Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck as the king dragged his hand slowly and enticingly up the hobbit’s chest, his bare skin reacting pleasantly to the touch.

And Bilbo could honestly say that at that moment he forgot all about the bond, about Erebor, about Smaug, and about their journey. All that mattered was Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea where to end this chapter so I just did it there. Who cares if Thorin and Bilbo just suddenly left Gandalf and Balin while they were talking and never came back?
> 
> Pssh
> 
> There wasn't much Need in this chapter but Eh. I do what I want. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Part One (because I'm a sucker for angst): Excessive Attachment, an Elven prison, and Bilbo struggles to find Thorin


	10. Interlude: Ori's Fear and Thorin's Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finally discovers why Ori pushed Dwalin away and Thorin struggles through yet another nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These were two scenes I didn't put into the last chapter because I thought it was getting a little too long. ;/
> 
> Anyway, you're going to get both sides of the feels in this chapter. 
> 
> And y'all thought I was just going to leave Dwalin hanging.

“Boys, could you please find Ori for me? I would like to talk to him.” Bilbo smiled as he and Thorin approached the two sitting in front of the house.

“Of course, Uncle Bilbo!” They chimed as they saluted their uncles and escaped into the house.

“What do you need Ori for?” Thorin asked curiously.

“I don’t know whether it’s just me thinking too much into it but I believe there is a little more to Ori’s rejection of Dwalin. I would like to hear what he has to say.”

His dwarf smirked, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s cheek. “Have you always been this nosy?”

“Nosy? I’ll have you know I am merely looking out for a friend. Saying that I’m nosy is practically comparing me to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins!” He snapped, crossing his arms.

“Ah, the person I am forbidden to mention,” Thorin murmured as he absently played with the key now dangling from his intended’s neck.

Bilbo nodded resolutely, watching as Fili and Kili nearly dragged a confused Ori towards him. He gave the two “the look” and they immediately took their hands away from the scribe. Thorin pressed a kiss to the back of Bilbo’s hand before ushering his nephews away for sword practice. Bilbo watched him leave fondly until he noticed the frown on Ori’s face.

“What’s the matter?”

“Hmm? O-Oh, nothing.” The ginger haired dwarf smiled.

“Take a walk with me?” Bilbo offered as he slowly moved away.

Ori followed behind obediently until the hobbit encouraged him to walk beside him. They settled into a leisurely pace, circling the perimeter of Beorn’s house. Ori remained relatively quiet while Bilbo tried to engage him in conversation. The scribe appeared fidgety, distracted. He continually looked around as if to find someone but he would soon throw his eyes to the ground with a bright blush against his cheeks.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Bilbo said gently. “Why did you reject Dwalin?”

He never knew Ori’s entire face could turn the shade of a tomato. It would have been humorous had it been any other situation but it merely made Bilbo more curious. The scribe ironically stumbled with his words, cutting fractured sentences off before he could attempt to say them.

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.” Bilbo sighed, placing a hand on Ori’s shoulder.

“N-No, I—It…you see…”

“I don’t believe your reason was as simple as not returning his feelings.”

Ori looked away, letting out a shaky breath. “No, it’s not.”

“Then why…”

Bilbo stopped himself when he saw the look on the scribe’s face as they rounded the building. His features relaxed, his eyes brightened, his lips parted slightly, and he looked absolutely content. Whatever embarrassment he had previously was lost to the wind as though it had never existed in the first place. Bilbo followed his gaze and found Dwalin sparring with Fili as Thorin and Kili watched on. That was when he realized he knew that look.

It was the look he always gave Thorin.

“You’re in love with him.” Bilbo breathed.

“I am.” Ori admitted dreamily as he stopped walking.

“Why did you refuse him then?”

“I’m…I’m…scared.” He laughed nervously. “I’m afraid that Dwalin doesn’t love me as strongly as I love him, that I’m just a passing fancy. I don’t want to have my heart broken when he leaves. If he was my soul mate, like how Thorin is yours, then I would be the happiest dwarf on Middle Earth. But he isn’t.”

“I’m sure he loves you just as you love him.” Bilbo whispered softly. “He had been so affected by your rejection that he nearly got into a fight with Thorin because he was in such a sour mood. And I don’t believe that mood has passed yet either.”

He pointed at the sparring duo and saw how animalistic Dwalin’s movements were. They were uncontrolled, wild like he wasn’t in his right mind. He could have easily overpowered Fili but for some reason he couldn’t. He swung too early or blocked too late. His growls in Khuzdul could be heard loudly across the property.

“You see, Ori, I know that dwarves only love once and that if Dwalin doesn’t love you then you will never be able to move on. But please understand that he _does._ You can see it in the way he was affected by your decision and in the way that he worked up the courage to even confess to you in the first place. Ori, love is not crystal clear. You need to trust in your heart to make the right decision. Can you honestly tell me that you made the right choice by pushing Dwalin away?”

The scribe’s eyes flickered back to the enraged dwarf attempting to throw a dwarven prince off of his shoulders. Ori took in a sharp breath before whispering, “I can’t.”

“Then you know what to do.” Bilbo smiled.

He watched Ori as he walked across the field towards the fighting duo, sharing a knowing smile with his soul mate.    

* * *

 

Thorin Oakenshield did _not_ hesitate. He never did.

It was undignified for a dwarven king like himself to hesitate during any situation. He needed to be decisive, concise, and completely sure of himself. He was from the line of Durin for Mahal’s sake. Thorin Oakenshield did _not_ hesitate.

But, perhaps, he did at this moment. Slightly.

He watched silently as Bilbo settled down on his bed roll next to him, his companions following suit. He knew he needed to move before Bilbo noticed anything. He had remained relatively still as Bilbo shifted to get comfortable, obviously waiting for Thorin to settle against him. He held his hand out to the king but the dwarf made no move to take it.  

The frown on the hobbit’s face made Thorin inwardly groan. He noticed.

“What’s the matter?” He asked worriedly sitting up.

“Nothing,” Thorin replied shortly.

“Then, won’t you join me?” Bilbo smiled, holding his hand out again.

This time Thorin took it and situated himself against the hobbit’s back, draping an arm around his middle and pulling him close. The soft buzz of their bond sizzled between them and the king frowned as the invisible thread tightened around them. The sudden stiffening of Bilbo’s shoulders told him that he also noticed Thorin’s abrupt change in mood.

Confound this bond.

Bilbo turned around curiously, sharing in the dwarf’s frown. “There _is_ something wrong.”

“No, there isn’t.” He replied firmly.

“ _Thorin_ ,” He pressed.

“There isn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Bilbo snapped.

Thorin cast a glance around the room and found most of their companions fast asleep save for Dwalin and Ori who were curled up against each other whispering quietly. Whatever the hobbit had said to the young dwarf earlier had worked. Within minutes the ginger haired scribe had taken Dwalin aside and spoken to them. When they had returned, the tattooed dwarf had been sporting a grin wider than a crescent moon.

“I don’t want you to…” The last part was lost to the wind.

“To what?”

“I don’t want you to have my nightmare too.” He whispered.

Bilbo’s eyes softened and he lifted his hand, resting it gently at the dwarf’s cheek. “Who’s to say that you will have one tonight?”

Thorin snorted. “When do I not have one?”

“If you do, we’ll do what we always do.” The king opened his mouth to speak but Bilbo pressed a finger to his lips. “We’ll handle it. _Together_. Ok?”

“Ok,”

 xXx

_“I can’t do this anymore, Thorin.” Bilbo shouted._

_He opened his mouth to say something but nothing but air drifted out. Why couldn’t he speak?_

_“You can barely keep your mind from spiraling into madness the moment you fall asleep. How could I love someone like you?” He hissed._

_No. No. No._

_“You’re too broken. No one can put you back together. No one would want to.”_

_Please._

_“I can’t believe I am stuck with you for the rest of my life. I would rather die than deal with your fractured thoughts.”_

_Stop it._

_“I deserve better than you. Anyone would do at this point.”_

_Stop!_

_“There are millions of people on Middle Earth and I had to be stuck with_ you. _”_

_Bilbo…_

_“And that is a fate worse than death.”_

 xXx

Bilbo awoke with a gasp, hands flying to his chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart. He felt an immense feeling of dread, something that chilled his bones and trembled his fingers. He immediately turned over to find his soul mate lying on his back, elbows high in the air as his hands covered his eyes. The dwarf took in a sharp breath and Bilbo moved towards him cautiously.

“I’m sorry.” Thorin breathed.

“There’s nothing—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Th—” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop—”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated. Bilbo pressed into him and the dwarf instantly moved back, away from him. His balled up hands lowered from his closed eyes and he opened his mouth more than likely to continue his two word mantra. “I’m s…”

Bilbo covered Thorin’s lips with his hands, leaning over him and pressing their foreheads together, his own lips grazing his fingers. “Please stop.”

Bilbo bit back tears as sorrow washed over him, heart reaching out to the dwarf beneath him. He moved closer, kissing his fingers in an attempt to comfort Thorin.

“I would never say those things to you. I love you with all my heart and I will continue to love you to the end of my days. You are my other half, my heart, and the purpose of my existence. And I would very much like to know what I could do to make you believe every word I’m saying.” He whispered.

Bilbo removed his hands, running his fingers over the dwarf’s beard. Thorin stiffened beneath him but didn’t move away. He raised his arms and wrapped them around the hobbit’s small frame, bringing him closer and making the bond spark between them. “I do believe you I just…can’t convince myself to accept your eternity.”

Bilbo waited patiently for Thorin to find the rest of his words, heart hammering in his chest.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you by my side as I rule Erebor. But for some ungodly reason I can’t…can’t…”

Thorin’s hands flew up to cover his eyes again but Bilbo caught his wrists before he could. He soothingly ran his fingers over the king’s knuckles as he croaked out, “You can’t believe that I can love you.”

Thorin remained silent as Bilbo blinked back tears. It was as though they had traded places. Earlier Bilbo had expressed his doubts and now Thorin was the one fighting to wrap his mind around things. But this time it had nothing to do with the bond.

This was all in Thorin’s head.

Earlier, Thorin had made it seem like he was levelheaded, calm and collected as he comforted Bilbo when he thought he was a puppet. And Bilbo had failed to notice that there was something bothering the king too. He didn’t notice that Thorin also had his own doubts but for an entirely different reason. This reason was from years and years of turmoil and grief as a result of the fall of Erebor.

Of course Thorin had made it seem like nothing was bothering him. That was the kind of person he was. Bottle everything up until it finally exploded in your face. Bilbo had to admit that Thorin was good at hiding things but now their bond stood in the way of that ability.

He couldn’t hide anything anymore.

Bilbo understood why this was so difficult for him. Whether it was because of the bond or because he was insightful he didn’t know. But Thorin had everything taken away from him. His father, his grandfather, his kingdom, his home, his brother, everything that ever mattered to him. And now he had Bilbo. It was hard for him to forget the fact that he lost the things he loved and cherished and now that Bilbo was in the picture it was understandable for him to think that he would be taken too for whatever reason.

But that was where the king was wrong. Bilbo wouldn’t be going anywhere. He would make sure of it. He would do everything in his power to make Thorin smile, to not have this terrible mindset. Bilbo was going to take Erebor back, grow old with the dwarf, watch Fili take the throne, and live a happy life right by his side. He would make sure of it.

“I love you.” Bilbo said slowly. “Please say the words back to me.”

“I love you too, _Ghivashel_.” He whispered, causing the hobbit to shiver from the deep rumble that bubbled in his dwarf’s throat.

“I know this can’t all be fixed in one night but please know that I am here to stay. I won’t be taken away from you that easily. You can count on that.”

Thorin remained silent as he absently ran his fingers through Bilbo’s hair. The soft sounds of Dwalin and Ori whispering to each other could be faintly heard in the deafening silence but Bilbo found a smile on his face as he saw their own glowing faces. Suddenly, Thorin chuckled, bobbing the hobbit up and down on his chest.

“Some would say that your stubbornness could rival that of a dwarf’s.”

Bilbo grinned from the king’s abrupt change in mood. After being around Thorin for so long, these kinds of moments were a good thing. They meant that whatever slump the dwarf had been in was slowly passing over his shoulders, returning him to his normal self. Bilbo was glad he could push Thorin out of these moods. He felt empowered and useful. Like he could actually do something.

“Being in the company of thirteen of them would do that to even the most sensible of hobbits.” Bilbo laughed.

He knew that this issue wasn’t remotely fixed and that it would have to be addressed at a later date but in moments like these Bilbo was just happy that Thorin didn’t wallow in his own sorrow. He was glad that the king could be uplifted by whatever words he was saying. Even though it was a small thing, it made Bilbo feel like a super hero. And he would do anything to save his dwarf.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I didn't put this in chapter 9. It would have made it insanely long! 
> 
> I apologize for the...nastiness of this chapter. I kind of rushed it because it was still fresh in my mind after i finished chapter 9.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> P.S: Fili and Kili are Bilbo's bitches now. :P


	11. Excessive Attachment Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excessive Attachment: Seen as a stronger form of Contact and Separation, Excessive Attachment is characterized by the sudden desire to be almost joined at the hip. It is normally not recommended to try to separate the soul mates during this phase due to the risk of being harmed by either party.

Bilbo stopped walking. He took in a shallow breath, hallway spinning around him. He pressed himself against the wall to steady himself but felt his knees begin to buckle beneath him. He fell to the ground with a pained groan, fingers digging into his arms. His heart hammered in his chest as the separation tore at his mind, forcing whatever coherent thoughts he had to the back of his consciousness. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as all feeling dribbled from his legs.

He only hoped that there were no elves around.

He had been lucky the first few times this happened but things could change in the blink of an eye. He didn’t know the guards’ patrol patterns—or maybe he did. He didn’t know. It was hard for information to sink in for him. He barely remembered where he had just been or where he was going. He somehow managed to hold the location of his companions close to his heart though. Perhaps it was because his nephews— _Thorin’s_ nephews were there.

However, there were only twelve dwarves in their wing of the prison. Thorin was still missing.

Thorin, oh Eru, Thorin. Bilbo needed to find him. Was he safe? Was he unharmed? Did the tree-shaggers do anything to him? Was he eating enough? Was he sleeping at night?

Bilbo’s entire body yearned for the king. His thoughts were jumbled. His memory was atrocious. His attention span was even worse. He could barely hold a conversation with one of his friends before he drifted into a sea of terrified thoughts. He would begin wondering whether Thorin was still alive or not. B-But he was. Wasn’t he? Gandalf said that Bilbo would know when Thorin died but what if the wizard was wrong? What if Thorin was already dead and Bilbo was just hanging on to the false hope that he wasn’t?

Thorin was dead. Thorin was dead. Thorin was—

Stop it.

Bilbo took in a broken breath and somehow managed to reel his mind back into him before it spiraled into madness. He could manage with the constant shaking, the consistent trembling in his voice, and his overall unsteadiness. He could deal with the fact that it was hard to focus on anything other than Thorin and he could somehow find a way to ground himself whenever he started crying.

But these episodes were destroying him.

There would be a sudden moment where the entire world would come crashing down on his shoulders, sending him to the ground and making him fear _everything_. He always thought of the worst and the tears would never stop flowing. Thorin’s unknown location would taunt him like an annoying child, yelling and screaming until he broke. But he never did. He would come dangerously close to falling but he would pull himself back into a sane state before he lost himself.

During these episodes, his entire body would refuse to move. He would be a prisoner to his own mind and there would be nothing he could do about it. His body would call out to Thorin, scream for him but the dwarf would never answer. He couldn’t.

Bilbo didn’t know how long it had been since he had last seen the king. Three days? Four? A week? Time didn’t matter to him as long as Thorin wasn’t with him. The ever responsible Balin would tell him a completely reasonable number but Bilbo would multiply it by a thousand because that’s what it felt like without his soul mate.

Gandalf had called this stage Excessive Attachment. He had taken the time to repeatedly tell the two to stay together until the stage had passed. He didn’t elaborate on the consequences of not following his orders but he had said that it would be detrimental to their health. And he was not wrong. Thorin and Bilbo had promised to stay together no matter what and they did. They did whatever it took to remain by each other’s side but…but…

But then the spiders happened and everything spiraled downwards from there. Thorin and Bilbo had been separated and by the time Bilbo had found his friends, they were already being taken away by the Mirkwood elves as prisoners. If it wasn’t for his ring, Bilbo would have been captured to. It was all up to him to figure out how to get his companions out but he was useless without Thorin.

He wasn’t in his right mind. Bilbo barely even recognized himself sometimes. He rarely slept but that was mostly because of Thorin. The king was as equally unstable, having nightmare after nightmare until he gave up on sleeping. Bilbo wished he could do something but he was useless.

He was a pathetic hobbit from the Shire who should never have come on this stupid journey. All he could do was garden and cook fattening foods. He was no warrior. Thorin deserved a better soul mate. Bilbo was completely and utterly hopeless.

While Thorin was being tortured by the elves Bilbo would be cowering in a corner crying his eyes out. Was Thorin actually being tortured? Did elves do that? Were they hurting him? Gandalf had told Bilbo that whatever injuries one of them received would be felt by the other as well. But perhaps the elves had strange Elven magic that blocked out their bond. Perhaps that was why Bilbo couldn’t find him.

Or perhaps it was just Bilbo’s incompetence. He couldn’t do anything. What if Thorin had lost an arm by now? Or a leg? Or an ear? Or—

Stop it.

* * *

 

Thorin couldn’t stop pacing. If he did he would begin thinking about Bilbo and the fact that he was out there somewhere. He would begin thinking about the hobbit’s safety and if he had even gotten out of the forest in one piece. The moment the spiders came he had lost sight of him. Thorin had promised that he would keep Bilbo safe. Now? Now he felt…he felt…

Thorin didn’t know what he was feeling. He rarely ever did. He only ever did when Bilbo was by his side. But the hobbit wouldn’t be around any time soon. And Thorin couldn’t do anything about that. Though, there was something he could do.

Don’t.

Stop.

Pacing.

His cell’s tiny size was magnified by the fact that he was going back and forth between the walls and sometimes he would find them closing in around him, whispering maddening words to him. Sometimes he would clench his fists so tightly that they would begin to bleed. He didn’t care. He had felt worse. Like the agony of Bilbo’s absence.  

Thranduil had said he was acting “barbaric” and “animalistic” and “savage” but Thorin didn’t give a shit. His hobbit was out there somewhere doing Mahal knows what and Thorin was stuck in a cell. He knew the hobbit was alive. He had to be.

Thorin suddenly stopped moving, world catching up with him. He felt the pure, galling rage coursing through his veins, pooling at his fist and—

Thorin let out a loud growl the moment his fist connected with the wall. The concrete cracked slightly, stained with the blood of an unstable dwarf. He didn’t bother examining his hand when he pulled it back. He knew it hurt. It actually hurt _a lot_. But it didn’t matter. He had a feeling he would be doing this same action again in the near future. He had already done it two other times anyway. What would another two do?

It distracted him from his failure, from his disgrace. For just a split second he would forget the fact that he was in an elven prison held by someone he wanted to kill with his bare hands. He would forget that he was stuck in a cell alone somewhere in this sorry excuse for a domain. And he would forget that Bilbo was possibly in trouble. But it wouldn’t last long.

He would begin thinking about Bilbo all over again. He would wonder at the hobbit’s status, if he was injured, or if that tree-shagging weakling of a king was—

Pacing.

Pacing.

Pacing. 

* * *

 

Bilbo collapsed in front of Fili and Kili’s cell. The two brother’s heads perked up at the noise and hurriedly scrambled to the bars. Bilbo carelessly took the ring from his finger and felt soothing hands at his shoulders. He sighed at the touch but he felt empty inside. It felt like nothing. It wasn’t _Thorin_.

“Any luck?” Fili asked quietly.

“What do you think?” Bilbo snorted, turning around to face them. At the hurt look that spread across the blond’s face, he added, “I still haven’t found him.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Bilbo.” Kili grinned. “You’ll find him.”

“Will I?” He croaked out, fingers curling around the metal bars. “I don’t even know how much time has passed. He could be—”

“Uncle Bilbo,” Fili interrupted firmly.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. He pressed his forehead to the bars and almost allowed himself to smile when he felt both brothers lean their heads against them too. “It’s just so hard. I don’t…I don’t think I can do this.”

One of Kili’s arms had snaked around his waist, pulling him into an awkward hug. The gesture should have felt comforting or at least positive but it didn’t. It felt heavier than it needed to be. He wanted to pull away. He wanted to back up so far that he was across the hall. Kili’s touch felt like poison.

But it shouldn’t have. These were his boys; his loving, passionate boys who could make him smile no matter what. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. It was sickening.

But he knew what he wanted. He wanted Thorin’s touch. There could be no substitute. He wanted Thorin’s calloused hands to run over his cheeks, pull him into a strong hug, and run through his hair so lovingly and gently that it hurt. He _needed_ Thorin. He missed him so much that he was sure his heart had died the moment they were separated. He was nothing without his soul mate.

“It’s alright.” Fili sighed, bringing his own arm up to meet Kili’s around Bilbo.

He didn’t realize he had started crying. Everything about these two reminded him of Thorin. Whether it was the slight tilt of Kili’s head when he contemplated a question or the flash of a smile from Fili when his brother made a joke. He saw Thorin every time he looked into Fili’s electrified blue eyes and sometimes mistook Kili for the king even when he knew that he wasn’t actually there.

“I love you both.” He cried.

“We love you too, Uncle Bilbo.” They said in unison.

And that should have made him feel something. It should have made his heart flutter happily but it didn’t. He felt incredibly and utterly empty.   

* * *

 

Bound. He was actually bound to the bars of his cell. Both of his wrists were tied around the bars and he was stuck sitting on the cold floor with his arms out like an idiot. They had said he was becoming a danger to himself and this was for his own protection. His own protection! Did they actually think that he was made of the same fragile and flimsy material they were? He was a dwarf. Not a dainty little fairy.

They were sorely mistaken if they thought that Thorin could hurt himself seriously by hitting a wall with his fist four times. 

This was insulting.

Thorin adjusted his hands and flinched when the rough twine scratched against his skin. Though they had said this was for his own protection, the elves hadn’t tied the ropes like they had wanted to keep him restrained. If he fiddled with his bindings enough he would be able to free his hands in no time.

Thorin lowered his head to the bars, sighing deeply. Now that he was unable to distract himself with mindless pacing, he was left to his thoughts which weren’t very appealing. He knew that if he continued like this he would break. His mind would shatter.

He _needed_ Bilbo and he hated the fact that the hobbit needed him too. It made him feel even more useless. He knew that Bilbo was suffering and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. His hobbit was in pain. And he was sitting here tied to a bar.

Thorin absently moved his wrists back and forth, causing the rope to scratch against his skin. He moved them again, forcing the twine to scrape against him a second time. He moved them a third time, flinching when he finally noticed how raw his wrists had become. Then, he suddenly stopped moving.

“What am I doing?” He asked aloud, voice bouncing against the walls.

When no one answered, Thorin lowered his head and sighed.

* * *

 

Bilbo slid to the ground beside Fili and Kili’s cell. The duo smiled at him but he turned away. He touched his head to the bars of their door and frowned when Fili held out a piece of bread to him. He pushed it away but the blond persisted, taking his hand and closing his fingers around it. Bilbo stared at the food wordlessly, placing it in his lap dismissively.

“Please eat,” Kili whispered.

“I’m not hungry.” He sighed.

“You need to eat something. You look starved.”

“Thank you for the compliment.” He drawled. “I’m still not hungry.”

“Please,” Kili breathed. “You look half dead. You need to eat.”

“I doubt that’s the reason why I look so terrible.” He laughed, making the brothers share a questioning look.

“You’ve done nothing but search for Uncle. We only ever see you sit down when you’re with us. You need to rest.” Fili insisted.

“Once I find Thorin I will be a lot better. Trust me.”

“Gandalf told us about this stage. We promised him that if you and Uncle ever got separated that we would keep you from losing yourself. He said this would happen.”  

Bilbo rolled his eyes at them and stood up, bread falling from his lap. “I don’t need you to worry about me.”

Kili caught his wrist before he left, shoulder painfully rubbing against the bars of their cell. “Please, Uncle would want—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence!” Bilbo snapped, turning around swiftly to glare at them angrily.

“You’re all we have right now.” Fili whispered. “Don’t go.”

Bilbo’s lips began to tremble but he remained rigid. “You aren’t children anymore. You can take care of yourselves.”

The brothers shared one final look before Kili released his hand. The two lowered their heads and said, “Ok.”

Bilbo suddenly felt his knees buckle and he collapsed to the ground with tears in his eyes. “Oh, Eru, what’s happening to me?”

He wrapped his fingers around the bars of their cell and let out a shaky breath. He hadn’t been himself when he said those terrible things. This blasted bond was slowly destroying him from the inside out, tearing away at what made him Bilbo Baggins and leaving an unstable loon who couldn’t control his emotions in its wake. If this was what their separation was doing to him, he couldn’t imagine what was happening to Thorin. Was he already too far gone? No, Thorin was strong. He was tougher than Bilbo. He could handle this. He had to. But Bilbo couldn’t. He didn’t know how long he could last without his soul mate.      

 _I need you, Thorin_.

* * *

 

“I’m feeling slightly merciful today.” Thranduil said, rising from his throne and thoroughly looking down at him. “This will be the last time I do this. I offer you my assistance to retake your mountain so long as you provide me with the jewels my people deserve.”

Thorin’s fingers twitched at his side. “I will continue to refuse your help for as long as I live.”

“You would let our past keep you from a prosperous future?” The elf-king asked with a raised brow.

“Gladly,” He hissed, balling his hands into fists.

The elven guards beside him raised their weapons and inched towards him. He shot them with a powerful glare and bared his teeth, causing them to back away. Thranduil’s eyes widened curiously and he walked down the steps of his throne to stand in front of the dwarf. Thorin appeared unfazed by the closeness of the king and merely motioned for him to say something.

“I must admit that I am curious about you. You seem different.”

“Losing your kingdom would do that to you.” He snapped.

“No, it is something else. You appear more unrestrained, unstable. Why is that?”

He opened his mouth to spit out an insult but stopped himself when he felt a rush of sadness, terror, and desperation wash over him, staggering him slightly.

 _I need you, Thorin_.

The dwarf’s eyes widened in shock as he froze, body growing rigid. He ignored Thranduil’s inquisitive gaze and the guards’ tentative steps towards him. Bilbo’s voice was like music to his ears, calming his mind to a gentle quiet and releasing the tension from his hardened bones. He wanted to reach his hand out and grasp at the words, hold them close to his heart and never let go 

He needed to find his soul mate.

Suddenly, Thorin turned around and tried to run past the guards behind him. Unfortunately, they had been ready for any resistance and grabbed his arms. He thrashed about, kicking and hitting whatever he could find. He managed to trip one of the elves and all three of them went tumbling to the ground. However, their grip on his arms was strong and they pinned him to the floor.

“Get off of me!” Thorin shouted as he writhed around beneath them. “I have to find him.”

“Who?” Thranduil asked in interest. He leaned over him with a raised brow, eyes sparkling with a wanton curiosity. At the dwarf’s lack of response, Thranduil straightened up and waved his hand. “Take him back to his cell. It appears that he would rather spend the rest of his life here than accept my offer.”

Thorin squeezed his eyes shut as he was taken away. He mustered up all of his willpower and energy just to whisper,

 _I’m here_.

* * *

 

Bilbo was sure he had gone down this hallway before. Or maybe he didn’t. No, he did. Did he? Oh, he did. He had seen that overturned stool earlier so that meant he had been here before. It seemed that had been happening a lot recently. He had gone through every inch of the elven city but he still had yet to find where they were keeping Thorin.

From his bond with the king, he knew that Thranduil wasn’t the kind of person to pamper a prisoner so the dwarf was more than likely in a cell. He just didn’t know which. He had come across four other cell blocks but they had all been empty. He had gone up and down stairs and over and under bridges but Thorin was nowhere to be seen.

Each of his companions had said that the dwarf-king had been separated from them when they were put into their cells so that meant that Thorin had to be here somewhere. Unfortunately, it appeared that this stage of the bond kept Bilbo from finding him through their supernatural connection. There wasn’t an invisible thread pulling him somewhere or a quiet hum in the back of his head that told him where Thorin was. His entire mind was void of any speck of his soul mate.

Oh, this was the dead end.

This was the hallway that had nothing in it. Bilbo had found it the first time he went exploring. Back then he had been slightly saner so he had taken notice of the fact that there were no decorations on the walls or the existence of doors. He had gone to the end of the corridor curiously only to find a wall in his way. He had looked around but found nothing special about it. Perhaps this had previously had a purpose but now it was useless.

Bilbo let out a sigh and leaned against one of the bare walls. He held his hand up and frowned at the slight tremor in his fingers. The hallway was a metaphorical image of his mind, void of anything and struggling to find a purpose. Without Thorin, he was nothing. The bond’s lack of response was like a kick to the face or salt thrown into an open wound.

He would have laughed at how poetic he was being but it was the truth.

Bilbo knocked his head back, swallowing down whatever terrible thoughts he was going to have. It was better to not think at all. And that’s what he was going to do. He wasn’t going to dwell on anything too long or risk wallowing in his own sorrows. No, he was done with that. He was…he was…

Bilbo bit back a strangled cry as the tremble in his fingers strengthened. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t do that.

He was completely and utterly alone. He had the others but they didn’t know how he felt. Thorin did. Thorin would know what to do to comfort him. Fili and Kili were making an effort to but their touches were hollow and their words were meaningless. He had no idea that he could be this lonely even when he was in the company of friends. He was scared.

_I’m here._

Bilbo fell to the ground soundlessly, tears streaming down his face. He repeated the words over and over again in his mind until he felt his entire body swell with love and affection. Thorin’s voice lingered over his shoulders like a blanket, wrapping him up protectively and giving him the strength to continue on. He fed off of the words, smiling to himself as he repeated them in his head again.

He was a fool to think that he was alone. Thorin would always be with him even when they were separated. And it wasn’t because they had a bond and were tied together for eternity. It was because they loved each other. It was because they would do anything just to see each other again. Thorin was always in his heart and he would always be in the dwarf’s. Even though they were physically separated, they were always together. Nothing could keep them apart.

Bilbo rose to his feet with renewed vigor. He was going to find Thorin. And he would tear down every wall of this Elven city until he did.

* * *

 

_“Now tell me, little hobbit, do you know why you’re here?” Thranduil asked with a mischievous smirk._

_“N-No,” He stuttered._

_“Oh, it’s simple. It is because your beloved King under the Mountain has failed to protect you. You see, he is trapped behind metal bars. He is too useless to do anything which is why you have been put into my care. I can protect you. I can do what he has failed to.”_

_“You’re wrong.”_

_“Am I? Is he here right now?” Thranduil hissed._

_“No.”_

_The elf-king grinned, running his thumb down Bilbo’s cheek. “That merely shows how true I am. You should have been my soul mate. I have power, a kingdom, strength, treasure. What does your dwarf have? Nothing. What is a king without a kingdom? Useless. You deserve better, Bilbo.”_

_“Perhaps you’re right.” He whispered._

_“Oh I am.” Thranduil smirked as he leaned closer. “Let me show you.”_

xXx

Bilbo jolted awake, covering his mouth to muffle a scream. He fell back against Fili and Kili’s cell, hitting his head against the bars and creating a loud bang. He looked over his shoulder to see if it had awoken them but found them still asleep against the door, hands tightly gripping the fabric of Bilbo’s coat. He turned back around and touched the key hidden beneath his shirt.

He hated the fact that he couldn’t comfort Thorin after his nightmare. This one was bad. It reminded the hobbit of the fact that the king still had his doubts, that he still thought Bilbo would somehow leave him. He knew that no matter what he would say, it wouldn’t change Thorin’s mind. He, himself, had to believe that Bilbo wouldn’t leave. And that would take time. Right now, his fears were magnified by a thousand.

He groaned when an agonizing pain spread across the knuckles of his left hand and down his palm. He brought it up to his chest and flinched when the pain throbbed slightly. It soon went away but would forever linger in his memory. This was the fifth time that happened and he was starting to believe that this was because of Thorin. The dwarf was doing something that was creating this sensation. But what could it be?

He gasped when it all clicked into place. His hand had felt like something bumped against it or he had hit it against something. Like a wall. Thorin was punching the walls of his cell and he had done it four other times. He wanted to stop him but his unknown location was beating at his skull like a sledgehammer.

Thorin was suffering. And Bilbo couldn’t do anything to help him.

He tightened his grip around the key as his vision blurred.  He was worthless, incompetent, pathetic, stupid, inept, terrible, purposeless, empty—

Stop it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who just got the Desolation of Smaug!!! I've already watched it three times. :3
> 
> But anyway, have some feels. 
> 
> This chapter didn't turn out as I hoped but I'm still satisfied.
> 
> I also want to go throw up after writing Thorin's nightmare.
> 
> Next Chapter: Bilbo finds Thorin. And Bombur Oakenbarrel happens.


	12. E.A Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excessive Attachment: Seen as a stronger form of Contact and Separation, Excessive Attachment is characterized by the sudden desire to be almost joined at the hip. It is normally not recommended to try to separate the soul mates during this phase due to the risk of being harmed by either party.

_“You don’t even know where he is.”_

Bilbo took in a deep breath, the ring suddenly feeling a thousand times heavier on his finger.

_“You’re walking in circles.”_

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will away the ring’s dark thoughts.

_“How long has it been since you started searching?”_

He could handle this. He could get through it like he always did.

_“Days? Weeks? Years?”_

The ring would not control him. 

_“You’re pathetic._

_Useless_

_Hopeless_

_A nervous wreck_

_Unstable_

_Unreliable_

_Worthless.”_

Bilbo fell to his knees, a cry bubbling in his throat.

                                                            _“Incompetent_

_Just a hobbit_

_Couldn’t—”_

“STOP IT!” He yelled, tearing the ring from his finger and gripping it tightly.

He raised his hand, ready to throw it, but froze the moment a melodic voice asked, “Stop what?”

He lifted his gaze to find an elf staring at him curiously from around the corner. He had long, blonde hair almost the color of starlight pulled back behind his pointy ears and pure cerulean eyes that watched him intently. The elf’s skin was a pale, moon dusted white that made light seem to radiate off of him, creating a graceful aura around him. The elf offered him a smile that brightened his already blinding features but Bilbo couldn’t return it.

He knew that what he was going to do was a stupid idea but it was the only thing he had left. If it got him killed, so be it.

“You…y-you have thirteen dwarven prisoners but only twelve in the cell blocks. Where is the thirteenth?” He swallowed thickly, voice trembling.

The elf tilted his head in thought, an eyebrow rising in wonder. “Why does Thorin Oakenshield concern you?”

Bilbo’s eyes fluttered at the mention of the king’s name. “He’s my…m-my…” _Soul mate. Other half. Everything._

“Your what?”

“He—I—We—” Bilbo had been so flustered that he hadn’t noticed the elf’s strange expression.

“Hmm, I have heard word of a special prisoner kept in the lower levels. Though, I’m not surprised you haven’t found him. That particular section of the prison is not found through conventional means. It might look like a dead end.” The elf shrugged nonchalantly.

Bilbo’s heart thundered in his chest as he let the information sink into his skin. Conventional means. A dead end…a dead end! It was the hallway he had found earlier! It did serve a purpose after all. He quickly stood up, pocketing the ring and turning away.

It took all of his willpower as a Baggins to stop running and turn back around. His body screamed for him to keep going, to find Thorin but he needed to do this. He was a respectable hobbit after all.

“What’s your name?” He asked breathlessly.

The elf smiled again and said, “Legolas,”

* * *

 

Bilbo nearly slammed into the wall the moment he reached the end of the empty passageway. He frantically ran his hands over the bricks, trying desperately to find anything out of place. Perhaps a button or a loose tile. He found purchase at a brick near the very bottom, jutting out slightly. He pushed against it, gasping as the shape of a door formed from the loose brick. It swung open, leading to a long staircase.

And to his soul mate.

He hurried down the stairs, tripping ever so often as he ran. He felt invigorated, giddy, like he was closing in on his prize. He stopped when the stairs ended at a new section of the prison, nearly identical to the ones the others were in. He looked into each of the cells as he passed but each were empty, painfully so.

But then he heard something, something that made his dying hope resurrect itself and pump blood into his veins. It was a _grumble_. Elves never did that. They were too proper and graceful to but it was common practice for a dwarf. Especially for a certain King under the Mountain.

Bilbo took in a shaky breath when he eyed a discarded bundle of ropes at the foot of a cell door. His heart thundered in his chest as he approached, fingers trembling with excitement.

And then he saw _him_.

Thorin was frantically moving back and forth between the walls of his cell, mumbling to himself. His hands were clenched into fists as he moved, brows drawn together in deep concentration. His eyes were shut tightly, Khuzdul flying from his lips.

Bilbo let out a sharp gasp as he whispered, “Thorin.”

The dwarf froze, eyes flying open and turning towards the bars. He took a tentative step towards the door but stopped himself, shaking his head. “I won’t be fooled again.”

“It’s me.” He said hoarsely, pulling the ring from his fingers.

Thorin’s eyes widened but he didn’t move closer, choosing only to blink at him. “…Bilbo?”

“Yes,” He replied, voice cracking. He moved towards the bars and slid his fingers around them, offering the king a tentative smile.

When their hands touched it was like a bolt of lightning through Bilbo’s heart, electrifying and reviving his bond with Thorin. The king’s touch was hot and heavy, loving and tender, and everything he had been missing in their separation. The look of pure adoration and longing that crossed the king’s face brought tears to the hobbit’s eyes and he let them fall free finally close to his soul mate.

“Hi.” Thorin breathed, fingers ghosting through Bilbo’s hair. He loved it when the dwarf did that.

“Hi.” He laughed shakily.

Then, the king’s lips were on his own, drawing him into a passionate and desperate kiss. Bilbo moaned into the embrace, ignoring the cold metal bars separating him from his soul mate. His entire body had been crying out for Thorin this whole time and the king was finally able to answer, finally able to set his mind at ease. It was like his very being relaxed, tension sliding from his bones. He felt completely and utterly at peace.

His other half was standing in front of him and Bilbo could finally feel it. The quiet hum at the back of his mind restarted, settling against him like a comforting blanket. The string between them wove around their bodies, pulling them closer in body and mind. His fears and doubts disappeared, his weariness and anxiety fluttered away, and his love and devotion blossomed forth.

Thorin and Bilbo were reluctant to part but knew they needed to breathe at some point. They separated but held each other close—or did their best with a cell door in their way.

“Are you injured?” The king’s voice was like music to his ears, fluttering his heart and making his knees weak.

“No but you…your hand…I felt…” Bilbo stopped himself and instead brought the dwarf’s hand up for inspection. He bit back tears when he saw the scabs forming at his knuckles, dried blood painted on like a decoration. “Thorin…”

“I’m fine.” He said gently. “I’m completely and utterly content.”

“But—”

“I’m ok, Bilbo.” He insisted, tugging at the hobbit’s hair for emphasis. Bilbo nodded noncommittally, running his fingers over the broken scabs. “Are you alright?”

“I am.” Bilbo smiled as he finally noticed how his mind was stabilizing and how his body was calming down. “I wasn’t before but I am now.”

“Me as well,” Thorin murmured, pressing a kiss to the hobbit’s forehead. The gesture sent pleasant shivers down the latter’s spine. “The others?”

“They’re all ok. Though Dwalin is getting a bit restless due to the fact that he wasn’t in the same cell as Ori.”

“Fili and Kili?”

“They’re together. I don’t—” His voice cracked but he tried again. “I don’t know what I would have done without them. They’ve kept me sane.” 

Thorin smiled softly but it soon went away when he looked about the room. “We have to get out of here.”

“I’ll figure something out.” Bilbo gulped. “I-I mean, I’ll try. I don’t know if I will be able to but I’ll do something. You do think I can do this, right? Don’t get me wrong. I’ll do it but I won’t promise anything. I can’t—”

“I trust you.”

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a shaky breath. He wished the iron bars weren’t between them because he really wanted to hug the dwarf in front of him. He wanted to drown himself in Thorin’s warmth, in his safety, in his love. He wanted to hide himself away from the world and curl around Thorin’s soothing presence. He wanted them to run away from reality and never look back. He wanted to be happy.

His knees began to shake and Bilbo clung to Thorin for support. In response, the king did his best to wrap his arms around the smaller creature, pulling him close but not so close that he would be pushed against the bars. Bilbo sighed when Thorin gently ran his fingers up and down his back, fears dissipating.

“You have to go.”

“I don’t want to.” Bilbo cried out.

“I don’t want you to leave either.” Thorin laughed halfheartedly. “But you need to. You need to get us out of here.”

The hobbit shook his head, pressing himself closer to the bars. “No.”

“Leave when I reach one.” The king whispered. After a silent moment, Bilbo nodded his head frantically. “Ten,”

“Nine,” Bilbo said hoarsely.

“Eight,”

“Seven,” He drew Thorin down for a long kiss, one that made his toes curl and his heart flutter.

“Six,” The dwarf pressed their foreheads together, pressing his lips to the hobbit’s nose briefly.

“Five,”

“Four,”

“T-Three,” Bilbo croaked out.

“Two,”

“O…O…Two,” He shut his eyes.

Thorin paused to kiss the hobbit again, letting out a strangled breath when they parted. “Two,”

“Two,” Bilbo said, raising his voice slightly.

“ _Men mizim, men âzyung_ ,” The king murmured tenderly. It felt like days before he finally hissed out, “One.”

With a tortured cry, Bilbo pushed himself from the bars, turning his back to the dwarf. He hurried away, legs the weight of boulders. _Don’t turn around_. He repeated those words over and over in his mind until they were cemented into his consciousness.

_Don’t turn around. Keep walking. Even if it feels like you are being torn in half. Don’t turn around. Even if your entire being wants to run back to him. Keep walking. Stay the path. Leave the dungeon. Come up with a plan to get your friends out. They’re counting on you. So, don’t turn around._

Bilbo knew that if he did, he would never want to leave. He would want to fall to his knees before the dwarf and stay with him until they both died of starvation. He would have gladly stayed at his side.

But no. He was Thorin’s only hope and he would not let the king down. He was the only thing between the company and freedom and he would do everything in his power to get them to safety. He would reunite Dwalin with Ori, finally pull Fili and Kili into a hug and wrap his arms around Thorin and never let go. He would do this. He was the only one that could. 

So, he lifted his head and kept walking.

* * *

 

This was the stupidest plan Bilbo had ever come up with. It would surely fail but it was the only plan he had. He had seen the elves dispense empty wine barrels countless times but he had never thought to use them to his advantage. He had watched the process to distract himself from Thorin’s absence and now he finally realized he could do something with it.

He knew it had something to do with being reunited with his soul mate. He could finally _think_. He stopped having fragmented thoughts or thoughts that made no sense whatsoever. His attention span grew greatly and he found himself in a happier mood. Stability had returned and he was able to live again.

However, he could never stay away for too long. He would need Thorin eventually and he would find himself scrambling over to his cell to just be near him or just to tell him about his day. When his confidence would be waning Thorin would be there to tie it back together. He would reignite Bilbo’s urge to find a way to escape and finally after a week of looking he had finally found their escape.

It would be dangerous and downright stupid but it was all he had. He had almost ruined his attempt at retrieving the prison keys because his mind had wandered back to the dwarf-king alone in his cell. Bilbo had almost been found out by the elves even in their inebriated state. But he was a reasonable burglar and he had made it out in one piece…somehow.

Now, he was struggling to keep his hands steady as he ran back to Thorin’s cell. His entire body was shaking with the excitement of finally setting the dwarf free. There would be nothing keeping them separated. It would only be skin (and clothes) between them. The keys threatened to clank together as he moved down the stairs but at the moment he didn’t care. There were no guards in the hidden wing of the prison. The elves seemed so confident in their hiding place that they would leave it unguarded. That allowed Bilbo to sleep beside Thorin at night.

“I’ve got them!” He smiled when he approached the cell.

The dwarf-king mirrored his grin, gripping the bars of his cell eagerly. “Open it.”

Bilbo’s fingers trembled as he found the right key. He tried them each until one clinked into place. He turned the key and the door was immediately flung open. He found himself pulled into the dwarf’s strong arms and he practically melted into the embrace, knees buckling in the process. The keys fell from his grip as he buried himself in Thorin’s tunic.

He breathed in the soft scents of earth and sandalwood, smiling at the fact that the king could still smell the same even after weeks in a dungeon. His intense warmth was a missed feeling, one that seemed to go beyond Bilbo’s body and transcend his soul. He was at home in Thorin’s arms and that’s the way it should have always been.

He knew they had needed to move. Their window of opportunity was closing but Bilbo didn’t care. He needed this. Thorin needed this. They needed each other and now they have each other. Weeks of torturous solitude had ripped at their minds, threatening to destroy them but they persevered. They had held out the hope that they would find each other eventually, that they would meet again and they did.

It was like a fairy tale ending in the middle of a story. It was a quiet moment of peace in the midst of an agonizing experience. It was beautiful.

It brought tears to Bilbo’s eyes but he held them back. He had cried enough and he wouldn’t even let happy tears fall. He didn’t have time to cry.

Thorin’s grip tightened around Bilbo before he finally released him. “Let’s go and get the others.”

Bilbo nodded, picked up the keys, and took the king’s hand. “This way,”

Most of the elves were occupied with a party celebrating the stars or something like that so many of the halls were unoccupied. It made it easier for Bilbo to lead the heavy-footed dwarf through Mirkwood without people noticing. Though, there were still times where they had to stop to allow some guards by but most of them had been distracted with each other. Apparently, elves were so confident in their skills in dungeon mastery that they did not need to monitor their prisoners.

Though, Bilbo would never tell Thorin that elves were just as arrogant as he was. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. He may have agreed on the fact that they were too proud. He would always insult elves before he did himself. Bilbo kind of found that adorable.

“Uncle Bilbo!” Fili grinned as they approached but the hobbit quickly put a finger to his lips.

“What’s—Uncle Thorin!” Kili yelled ecstatically.

The shout of their leader’s name brought the other dwarves out of whatever lull they were in and they had come to the bars, squishing their faces against them to see their king. They roared out questions to the pair but Thorin easily shushed them, nodding towards Bilbo who unlocked his nephews’ cell door.

The two brothers quickly jumped onto their uncles in a brief embrace before separating to help the hobbit release the others. After a makeshift reunion, the company turned to their king who merely gestured towards Bilbo. The hobbit took Thorin’s hand and began leading them towards the cellar. He had to periodically turn around to shush the rest of his companions as they walked and it seemed like years before they had reached the winery.

Slumbering elves littered the tables filled with empty goblets and discarded food. Their quiet snores could be heard across the room and Bilbo cautiously motioned towards the empty barrels for the dwarves to get in.

“Ok. Hop in,” He smiled. His friends stared at him dubiously, causing him to roll his eyes.

He gave his soul mate a pleading look and the king bellowed out, “Do as he says,”

Albeit with grumbles and complains, the others clambered into their own barrels. When Bilbo motioned for Thorin to get into his own the dwarf shook his head defiantly. “But—”

“I go when you go. Someone has to pull that lever and I know that will be you.” The king dragged the last barrel back towards the hobbit and stood it upright. He climbed in and replaced Bilbo’s hand in his. “I’ll be here to catch you when we fall.”

Bilbo smiled softly before gazing at the lever in determination. He pulled it fiercely and the floor disappeared from beneath them. They began to tumble down but true to his word, Thorin pulled the hobbit into his barrel and held him close. As silly as it was, Bilbo felt completely safe with the king even as they plunged into the icy waters below.

xXx

Bilbo didn’t know how they survived an orc pack, elves, and jagged rocks but they did. However, they weren’t without injuries. Ori had taken one in the arm and Kili had been shot yet again by another arrow. But they were all ok. _All_ of them. His stupid, idiotic plan had actually worked. Perhaps he wasn’t as useless as he thought.   

Bilbo tightened his grip around Thorin, smiling when Fili and Kili joined the embrace. At that moment, he was fully surrounded by the three people he cared about the most in all of Middle Earth. Even though it was freezing cold and he was drenched head to toe, the intense heat from his three dwarves was keeping him beautifully warm. He let out a sigh when Kili mumbled something in Khuzdul, frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t understand the language.

In response to whatever his nephew had said, Thorin murmured a gruff reply. Though, Bilbo was sure it sounded rude because that was just the way the language seemed.

Kili sniffled, rubbing his eyes and nodding his head.  

“Are you alright? Does your leg hurt badly?” Bilbo asked in concern.

“No. I mean, not really.” The archer smiled, tightening his grip around his family. “I’m just…I’m just happy that we’re all together again.”

Eventually the two brothers separated from the soul mates, waving to them sweetly before joining the others by the fire at the coast.

Bilbo pushed away to lean up and kiss his dwarf soundly. Thorin chuckled into the embrace, kissing back hungrily before schooling his emotions and pulling away. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Bilbo grinned. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

“I promise.” He whispered as he pressed his lips to the hobbit’s neck.

“No matter what,”

“I promise.”

“Even if things get so bad that you would never want to see me again,”

“I don’t think that’s possible, _Ghivashel_ , but I promise.” He smirked.

Bilbo knew Thorin never broke his promises but for some reason he couldn’t shake the strange feeling of doubt that crept beneath his bones like a silent killer, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really short because I just couldn't think of anything to put in it. Ughhhhh
> 
> I didn't really like it but what are you gonna do?
> 
> I also hated where I ended it. ;/
> 
> Next chapter: You know what's next. :3 Bow Chicka Wow Wow


	13. Sexual Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (~￣▽￣)~

Laketown was a blur to Bilbo. Everything flitted by like insignificant figures flickering in and out of existence. The people were transparent to him even as he and the others were guided towards the Master’s mansion to be dealt their punishment. He knew he was supposed to care about the fact that they had been caught in a place they shouldn’t have been in but it barely crossed his mind.

The only thing he could focus on was the way Thorin’s hair fluttered softly in front of him and in the way the king’s oversized clothes still made him look amazing.  He followed the curve of the dwarf’s shoulders all the way down to his hips, relishing in the sight before him. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around Thorin and submit to him, give in to his carnal desires. 

Bilbo let out a long, tense breath that unknowingly caused the king in front of him to clench his hands into tight fists.

Bofur gave the hobbit a curious look, placing his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and asking, “Are you alright?”

Bilbo jerked at the touch, stomach churning sickeningly within him. He suddenly felt terrible, nauseous, _filthy_. Bofur’s touch was heavily unpleasant and it sent a jolt of anxiety down Bilbo’s spine. He stiffly slid the dwarf’s hand off and said, “Yes.”

“You sure?” Bofur asked, moving to replace his hand.

He swallowed thickly before saying, “Yes and…don’t touch me. Please.”

The hatted dwarf shared a look with Balin who alternated between glancing at Thorin and Bilbo. Then, his eyes widened and he began whispering hurriedly to his brother beside him. Their conversation was quickly cut short by the loud, booming voice of the Master littering into the air.

The group looked up to find a sweaty, portly man amble out of the mansion, lips pulled into a smug smile. He walked with a pompous swagger that even Bilbo, in his inebriated state, noticed. The man slowly stepped down the stairs, each movement dripping with the air of superiority he thought he had. He finally stopped at the base of the steps, eyeing the fourteen intruders with an inane curiosity.

Bilbo tried to follow what he said but it was lost to him, swirling around his head like a white mist. He focused on the back of Thorin’s head, fingers nearly reaching out to run through his soft hair. Bilbo tightly gripped his pants to keep his hands in check, hating the way his self-control was throwing itself to the wind. It felt like his chains had been broken, releasing someone he barely recognized. But he was a respectable hobbit. He was a Baggins and that meant he would do everything in his power to keep from tugging Thorin to his side and losing himself in the dwarf.

Bilbo nearly let out a whine when Thorin stepped forward and away from him. The king cleared his throat before speaking, voice strangely hoarse and gravelly. He addressed the crowd, encouraging people to support his cause and help him retake Erebor. Bard had spoken up at some point but his complaints had been quickly drowned out by the others’ cheers and the Master’s approval. Soon, the men had begun to swarm them, showering them in clothes and food.

Bilbo should have felt happy that they were welcomed into Laketown so warmheartedly but he could only focus on Thorin who was nodding distractedly to whatever Balin was saying to him. Then, Bilbo met his eyes and it seemed like all time had stopped. A fire lit in the pit of his stomach, ignited by the predatory gaze deep in Thorin’s blue eyes.

Their bond sizzled between them, the string desperately trying to pull them together. Bilbo grinned savagely when he saw the king slowly stalk towards him, movements slow and almost intentionally drawn out. The hobbit opened his mouth to say something but their entire world came crashing down when a hand was laid on his arm and he was whirled around to find Bofur smiling down at him.

“Come on, Bilbo! I want to see the tavern.” He said eagerly, eyes suspiciously flickering over his shoulder.

Bilbo tried to brush the dwarf’s unwelcomed hand off of him but Bofur’s grip seemed to tighten even more. The pointy hatted dwarf began dragging him away without the hobbit’s input and Bilbo barely had time to look over his shoulder to see Thorin being pulled away by Dwalin and Balin to some unknown location.

* * *

 

Bombur had somehow managed to run off to the tavern’s kitchen, yelling at the chef for giving him a mediocre meal. Bofur had ambled onto a table drunkenly singing a song of young dwarven lasses and their beautiful beards. The men around him didn’t seem to mind, clapping along to the song and encouraging the dwarf to sing louder. Some even joined him, voices echoing across the large room.

Bilbo was wordlessly moving the liquid of his drink around, circling the bottom of the cup against the table. Ori, who had coincidentally joined him when he was about to leave the tavern, had tried to engage him in conversation but the hobbit was having none of it. His bond with Thorin was straining at their distance, screaming at him to find his soul mate but every time he tried to find Thorin, someone would interrupt his search.

At the moment it was Ori who was trying and failing to talk to him.

“How do you like Laketown? I must admit that it has some sort of rustic charm but it otherwise gives me the chills. Especially the Master,”

“I suppose.” It wasn’t exactly an answer to Ori’s question but the young scribe was taking whatever he could get.

“The Master is holding a feast for us in his mansion tonight. I hope the food is good or Bombur is going to have a fit.”

“That’s nice.”

Ori laughed awkwardly into his drink, eyes darting nervously around the room.

“I need to find Thorin.” Bilbo said absently as he stood up.

“No!” Ori shouted, latching onto the hobbit’s wrist with a swift movement. “I-I mean, he’s speaking with the Master and making sure we get the proper supplies for our journey. He’s terribly busy.”

“Oh,” He sank back down, eyes finally settling on the dwarf beside him.

“But he’ll be present at the dinner. He’ll be done by then.” Ori smiled, placing a friendly hand on Bilbo’s knee.

The hobbit instantly frowned, brushing aside the touch like it was burning him. He scooted away but returned the scribe’s smile. “I’m sorry. I just…don’t want to be touched right now.”

“It’s alright.” Ori said sweetly. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm,” He murmured dreamily, eyes latching onto the nervous motion of the dwarf’s finger as it circled his thigh.

“Does Thorin express himself to you? I mean, does he tell you what’s on his mind?”

“He’s wonderful.” Bilbo whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.

“I…um…” Ori wrung his hands uncertainly, eyes focusing on the small space separating him from Bilbo. “I finally told Dwalin that I loved him but he didn’t say it back to me. Is that bad?”

“Bad is a relative term. Only you can answer that question.”

Ori was surprised to have finally received a clear and concise response from the hobbit. He looked up, ready to retort, but stopped himself when he realized Bilbo’s glassy stare was still blanketing his cerulean eyes. Incidentally, the hobbit murmured something about Thorin’s favorite color and Ori knew that whatever connection they had had was gone, lost in the dark recesses of Bilbo’s mind as he struggled to handle the distance between him and his soul mate.

* * *

 

It was disgusting, sickening. It was like it was clawing at his arm, trying to get him to close the distance between them. He was so close yet still so far away. He wanted to push past the people between them, eliminate the obstacles in his way but it wasn’t right. He would draw too much attention to himself and with their tentative friendship with the Master that was the last thing he wanted to do.

No matter how much he wanted to tear apart the people sitting between him and Thorin.

It was only Bofur and Balin but it felt like they were miles apart. Bilbo knew the two dwarves had sat themselves beside him for a reason. They knew what he was going through and he wanted to scream at them to mind their own business. He wasn’t a sex crazed loon. Bilbo could handle himself thank you very much.

But he had to admit that it was hard to resist temptation, to give in to what his entire body wanted. It was even harder when Bilbo had realized Thorin was going through the exact same thing. The only things standing between them were a few stubborn dwarves who thought they were hormonal teenagers.

Bilbo snuck a glance down the dinner table, past Balin and Bofur (who were trying to keep their eyes straight), and to Thorin who was dreamily gazing down at the goblet in his hand, moving it about languidly. Bilbo watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, following the movement with a predatory interest. He grinned when Thorin’s grip on the cup tightened, knuckles whitening as his fingers curled around the large, manmade chalice.

Bilbo imagined that same hand running up his leg, savoring every curve and edge of the hobbit. The hand would move about unhurriedly, tempting Bilbo to urge it into motion. It would settle heavily against his hip as Thorin drew him into a deep kiss that’d electrify Bilbo’s entire body. It would make him give in to the dwarf, submit himself to the king’s rule. He’d push Thorin’s hand lower…and…lower, daring him to do something, something—

The sudden spill of wine and Balin’s yell of terror brought Bilbo out of his fantasy. He lazily tilted his head to find that Thorin’s goblet had managed to tip over even though he was sure the king had had a firm grip on it earlier. Nonetheless, Bilbo smiled innocently when Thorin met his gaze.

His grin slowly disappeared when he saw the pure fire and want swarming deep within Thorin’s dark blue eyes. Bilbo let out a shallow breath, body suddenly heating up to the temperatures he had reached in the goblin tunnels. Instead of fighting it, Bilbo pressed into it, embraced it. He let it swarm his senses and tingle his skin.

“Bilbo?” Bofur whispered as he placed a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder.

“I told you not to touch me!” He snapped, slapping the dwarf’s hand away.

Bofur blinked at him in surprise but ultimately murmured an apology. Bilbo immediately felt guilty, frowning as he busied himself with his meal. Then, suddenly, everything felt too much, too overwhelming. His wants and needs bombarded him like a flurry of arrows, piercing his skin with each hit.

Bilbo quickly stood up and excused himself from the table. He promptly ignored the Master’s curious gaze as he passed, holding his head high and feigning normalcy. Not knowing where to go, Bilbo decided to turn right. He emerged into a long corridor that appeared to go on for miles. It was outlined by mahogany tapestries hung high above the ground and dozens of windows covered by dark red curtains. He looked out of them as he passed, the fiery evening sky peeking through the cracks.

Bilbo suddenly stopped moving, a grin forming at his lips. His eyes fluttered shut as he took in a deep breath, fingers flexing at his side. He focused all of his senses on his bond with Thorin, the string forming in his mind. He touched it, teased it and wrapped his fingers around it.

_Come find me._

The instant jostling of the string told Bilbo that Thorin had heard him and he opened his eyes excitedly. He hurried around the corner and into another hallway nearly identical to the one he had just been in. He stopped to marvel at the dark tapestries, momentarily losing himself in the intricate patterns. He was spurred back into motion by the bond as Thorin grew closer and Bilbo continued down the hallway.

He had no idea where he was going. He just knew that he needed to continue this game of cat and mouse for a little longer. It was exhilarating.

He knew he was far away from the dining hall but not so far that it would be impossible for Thorin to find him. Half of him wanted to reveal himself and the other half wanted to be found. It made Bilbo’s heart flutter knowing that his soul mate was trying to find him. He was the reason Thorin was out in the halls and he would be his prize.

He slowed his pace to run his fingers over the various paintings on the walls and smiled wickedly.

Bilbo had no idea where this playfulness was coming from but he liked it. He knew that he craved Thorin’s attention and he also knew that Thorin was begging for his as well. However, he wasn’t going to give it that easily. Thorin enjoyed challenges. He would like this.

Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder.

“Found you.”

Bilbo’s entire body surged pleasantly at the rough voice at his ear. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he allowed himself to be turned around. He grinned widely, eyes lifting to meet electrifying blue orbs. Thorin smirked, resting his hands at Bilbo’s waist and gently pushing him backwards towards the wall.

“You did.” Bilbo murmured, fingers ghosting over the muscles at Thorin’s arms. “What are you going to do about it?”

He let out a low hum, brow rising mischievously. “What, indeed.”

Bilbo’s back touched the wall the moment his hands reached Thorin’s face. He buried them in the dwarf’s dark curls, resting his head against the wall. “Punish me?”

“Later,” Thorin leaned down, lips barely brushing against Bilbo’s. “But first, I’ll take my prize.”

He finally pressed his lips to Bilbo’s and the hobbit kissed back feverishly. He moaned into the embrace and Thorin lifted him up effortlessly, arms circling securely around him. Bilbo wrapped his legs around Thorin’s waist and with his new height, deepened the kiss.

At some point, Thorin had managed to guide them behind one of the curtains and Bilbo soon found his back pressed to a cool glass surface. He popped one eye open and saw the rest of Laketown below him oblivious to what was going on in one of the windows of the Master’s mansion. It would have been easy to see Thorin and Bilbo from below. One of the residents could at any point see them if they simply looked up. That should have given Bilbo pause, should have made him stop and tell Thorin to do this somewhere more private.

But, instead, Bilbo dragged his hand down the king’s chest, fingers gliding over the swelling bulge in the dwarf’s pants. Thorin let out a low rumble that tickled Bilbo’s spine and made his lips curl into a smile. He drew the king back down for another kiss, moaning into it as Thorin pressed him further against the glass.

Bilbo had no idea what phase of the bond this was but he loved it. Excessive Attachment had been a nightmare, leaving him broken and scared. But now, now he was invigorated. Every touch from Thorin seemed to cause life to erupt from within him, energize his soul and make him beg for more. His kisses were thunderous, his voice heavy. He was too much and not enough all at once.

Bilbo was completely surrounded by Thorin and it was the most amazing feeling he had ever experienced.

The moment the king’s hands began sliding lower was the exact moment voices came tumbling down the hallway. The two separated reluctantly with a loud smack, both breathing heavily. Bilbo’s eyes fluttered open and he let out a soft moan when Thorin dipped his head back down to press his lips to his neck.

The voices began to get louder but Thorin continued to worry the spot, grinning into Bilbo’s skin.

“Where is he?” Balin sighed. “We shouldn’t have let him go like that.”

“They better not be shagging in a closet somewhere.” Dwalin huffed.

“Bofur was supposed to keep an eye on Bilbo but he ran off too.” His brother lamented. “This is not the way they should be acting at a dinner graciously thrown by the Master of Laketown. How embarrassing.”

Thorin released Bilbo’s skin with a satisfying pop, marveling at his handy work for a brief moment.

“Tonight,” He rasped.

“Tonight,” Bilbo repeated, voice thick with want and desire.

Thorin moved to back away, fingers brushing the curtain behind him. But suddenly, Bilbo reached his hand out, taking his wrist and pulling him back towards him. The hobbit stood on his toes and brought the dwarf back down for another bone crushing kiss, dragging his fingers down his chest and stopping dangerously close to the hem of his pants. Finally, he pushed the dwarf away and allowed him to return to his companions.

 “Tease.” He hissed as he disappeared behind the curtain.

“Thorin! There you are.” Balin murmured in exasperation. “We were wondering where you had gone.”

“Only for a walk,” He replied with a gruff clearing of his throat.

Bilbo heard Dwalin snort and mutter, “A walk he says,”

Their disappearing footsteps spurred Bilbo into motion and he hurried away in the opposite direction.

* * *

 

“And apparently he didn’t like that but _we_ didn’t know that so it’s not really _our_ fault.” Kili said resolutely as he bounced on the corner of the bed.

“So, he started chasing us around Laketown. We didn’t think he would leave Ori’s side that easily so we were kind of surprised when he came barreling after us. It was slightly frightening.” Fili added, bringing his hand up to touch the braid Bilbo had just recently finished making. “You’re really good at this, Uncle Bilbo.”

“It must be a natural talent.” He smiled softly as he got ready to work on another.

The two brothers had been ecstatic when they discovered that their hobbit uncle was looking for them to braid their hair. They hurriedly dragged Bilbo into his room and situated themselves on his bed, looking up at him with wide, excited doe eyes. However, in actuality, Bilbo had wanted to wholeheartedly braid their hair because it would keep his mind off of Thorin for the time being and give him something to do while he waited for the dwarf to be finished with whatever he was doing.

Balin had said it would take late into the night and that it involved thinking up plans for the journey ahead. Bilbo could wait. He could wait. Bilbo. Could. Wait.

“Ow! Uncle Bilbo!” Fili exclaimed and he immediately released the braid he had been tugging. He patted the blonde’s shoulder in apology and began another.

Incidentally, that tryst with Thorin earlier allowed his mind to remain rooted to the real world for the rest of the afternoon. He could actually speak a sentence relevant to the conversation at hand. He would really have to apologize to Ori for his empty headedness earlier at the tavern. How embarrassing.

“I have to ask.” Bilbo began as he smoothed some of the raging curls in Fili’s hair. “You two seemed rather eager for me to braid your hair. Why?”

Even from behind Fili, Bilbo could tell that the two brothers had exchanged a look.

“Our mother always braided our hair in the Blue Mountains. She couldn’t do it while we we’re on our journey so…” Fili trailed off.

“So when you started doing it…well…we…” Kili looked away rather embarrassed.

“It reminded you of your mother.” Bilbo finished quietly. He let out a sigh and added, “Well, when we retake the mountain your mother will be able to do it again. Perhaps we’ll both be. I wouldn’t mind meeting Thorin’s sister. I always imagine her as a female version of him. I always picture her as the better of the two. I can’t wait to meet—what?” During Bilbo’s absent ranting, the two brothers had turned to him with those same doe eyes he had seen earlier. They were practically vibrating with excitement. “Was it something I said?”

“We love you, Uncle Bilbo!” They shouted as they threw themselves on top of him.

He let out a surprised giggle as he tumbled back onto the bed but quickly stifled it the moment that same disgusted feeling bubbled deep within his stomach. The sickening sensation slowly spread throughout his body nearly causing him to throw his would-be-nephews off of him. He took in a deep breath to calm himself before sitting himself up with them curled around him.

He slipped from between them and stood up. Clapping his hands, he said, “Alright, boys. Time for you to get your sleep. Hurry along.

They both groaned as they sat up with Kili lamenting, “Can’t we sleep in here with you and Uncle Thorin?”

“No!” Bilbo replied a little too quickly. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I-I mean, perhaps another time.”

“You heard him, Kee. They want to sleep in here by themselves. _Alone_.” Fili smiled, elbowing his brother as they got up.

“Fineeee,” Kili sighed. He gave his hobbit uncle a parting hug before stepping out of the room.

Fili stepped up to give him a hug as well and it took all of Bilbo’s energy as a Baggins to keep from recoiling away. He reluctantly wrapped his arms around the young dwarf, swallowing down that horrendous feeling. He breathed out a sigh of relief when Fili finally released him.

“Have fun.” He smiled before following his brother out the room.

“I will. I-I mean, I will…I’ll…uh…” His stumbled words and flushed face lingered after the two even as the door swung shut.

Finally alone, Bilbo shook his arms of that revolting sensation, taking a moment to just remove whatever he was feeling from his bones. He hated how that strange sensation would creep up on him whenever he was touched even by his adorable nephews. It only didn’t happen when he was touched by Thorin. An even better feeling would come upon him. One that he wouldn’t mind having again.

At the thought of his soulmate, Bilbo’s face turned an unhealthy shade of red. He repeated Thorin’s rasped word of promise over and over in his head until he was dizzy with anticipation. His fingers trembled eagerly, skin tingling with excitement.

He wondered how Thorin would be. Would he be rough and demanding? Or would he be gentle and responsive? Bilbo honestly didn’t mind either but he had to admit that he wouldn’t be opposed to the former.

How was Bilbo supposed to be when Thorin finally came into the room? Was he supposed to be in a certain position? Was he supposed to keep his clothes on or off? What was he supposed to do?

Bilbo took in a deep breath before sitting himself down at the end of the bed, drumming his fingers on his knee absently. He soon thought against the position, swiftly standing up and moving towards the window. He vacantly looked down at Laketown below before thinking of another place to be. Perhaps he should—

Suddenly, he heard the door slide open and he let out a sparse breath, shaky yet completely stable.

He turned around slowly to meet Thorin’s electrified gaze at the doorway. And he almost immediately felt the air rush from his lungs. Bilbo stood there froze unable to do anything, unable to think of anything. His hands stilled at his side, his shoulders stiffened, his lips trembled. And his nervousness crept to a thousand degrees the moment Thorin started walking towards him.

“H-Hello,” He stuttered out when the king finally stood in front of him.

Thorin looked him up and down slowly, eyes sliding over him like an addicting drug. His lips curled into a sweet smile that traveled down Bilbo’s spine, settling at his back and calming his nerves.

And the moment Thorin’s lips touched his, Bilbo’s body spurred into motion.

The anxiety fled from his lungs like an impromptu purge. His shoulders relaxed and his hands flew into Thorin’s hair, drawing him close and deepening the kiss. It felt heated, needy, and rushed yet passionate, loving and smooth.               

They slowly moved backwards, hands tangled within clothes hurrying to get them off. Bilbo’s back hit the wall and he gasped in surprise, momentarily causing him to break the kiss. Thorin dipped his head down to the curve of his neck, peppering kisses down his collarbone and sucking gently at his pulse point. The hobbit let out a needy moan, fingers reaching underneath the king’s tunic to pull it upward.

Once he was rid of his shirt Bilbo took a moment to drag his hands down Thorin’s chest, rising and falling over smooth and worn flesh, scarred and untainted skin. He spread his fingers back upward, settling at Thorin’s broad muscular shoulders and bringing the king back down for another fiery kiss.

In response, Thorin began sliding Bilbo’s coat off, pulling his suspenders down and unbuttoning his shirt. The cold air at his chest was immediately replaced by the heat of Thorin’s, warming him to his toes and making him a little bold. Bilbo’s fingers drifted to the hem of Thorin’s pants, slipping in to grab at the bulge rubbing at his trousers. He wrapped his fingers around it, marveling at its size, before giving it a swift tug.

Thorin immediately responded with a deep growl, hissing out, “Bed. Now.”

Bilbo grinned up at him innocently before following his command, settling himself down and propping himself up on his elbows. “Needy aren’t we?”

“Oh I am.” Thorin smirked as he stalked towards him, pupils blown wide and hair a mess. As he moved forward, Bilbo’s heart began to thunder with anticipation and excitement. He slowly climbed over him like a predator, ready and eager to pounce. “I’ve waited for this the entire day. But,” The king stopped himself at Bilbo’s pants, curling his fingers around the hem and tugging them and his underwear off. His swollen member sprung forward, precome sliding down the shaft like a tease. “I am going to take my time with you.”

And all too soon Thorin’s mouth consumed him, bobbing his head and sucking in quick repetition. Bilbo let out a startled breath, falling back onto the blankets under him. His hands flew into Thorin’s hair, moaning and writhing around beneath him. The wet, hot heat was swirling around him, bringing him to pieces with each movement of Thorin’s tongue.

His mumbled words were lost between each moan, drifting into a pool of gasps and labored breaths. He could feel something bubbling deep within his stomach, spreading over his body and lingering between his thighs. It was going to burst. He was close. He could feel it surging within him and somehow he knew that his soulmate knew he was close.

Bilbo’s fingers curled in Thorin’s hair and he came with a burst of fiery intensity. He slowly drifted down from his high, breathless and wonderful, as Thorin peppered kisses up his chest and to his shoulders. Bilbo brought him back to him, pressing his lips to his and tasting the salty sweetness of himself at Thorin’s tongue.

Bilbo tugged at the hem of his king’s trousers, making a disappointed groan when he struggled to take them off. Thorin chuckled softly as he eased out of them, allowing Bilbo’s fingers to settle around his large member and pull at it gently.

The dwarf’s strangled breath was met by Bilbo’s lips, kissing him eagerly before whispering, “I want you in me.”

Thorin licked a long strip up the hobbit’s jaw, nibbling at his ear as he rasped, “Gladly,”

The dwarf settled himself comfortably between Bilbo’s thighs, running a hand down his newly hardening member. The king laced his fingers in the hobbit’s precome, dragging it down to tease at his entrance. He pushed one in and Bilbo took in a sharp breath at the intrusion, gripping the bed covers tightly. Once he relaxed around the finger, Thorin pushed in another causing Bilbo to bite his lip. It burned as Thorin moved his fingers in and out, settling in deep and then nothing at all.

Finally, his fingers hit a certain spot that made the hobbit see stars, eyes shutting tightly as he moaned for Thorin to do it again. He obliged, pushing in with his third finger and hitting that spot over and over again, forcing whatever pain Bilbo was feeling to the back of his consciousness.

Bilbo groaned when Thorin removed his fingers only to take in a sharp breath when he felt something else touch his entrance.

Bilbo let out a low moan as Thorin slowly pushed in, marveling at his size and wincing at the pain. He forced his entire being to relax around him, letting the king settle entirely within him before releasing the heavy breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. He wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck, gulping as he adjusted to the intrusion.

“Are you alright?” The king huffed out above him, hands moving to Bilbo’s sides.

The hobbit nodded frantically and breathed out,” Move.”

And he did, beginning at a slow pace. However, it soon grew faster with Bilbo moaning every minute of it. Thorin adjusted his angle, allowing him to hit that same spot that made Bilbo see the universe. Their heavy pants were the only things heard in the room save for breathless endearments and skin against skin.

Suddenly, Bilbo felt a new sensation sprinkle into his body. It was different from the pleasure he was receiving from Thorin. It slowly grew, complimenting what he was already feeling, magnifying it to epic proportions. He was feeling more, more than what he could handle. It began to consume him, overwhelm him but he pushed into it, wrapped his fingers around it, held it and never let go. It was more than he could handle but he let it slide over him like a hot, fiery eruption.

Bilbo and Thorin took in a sharp breath at the same time and that was when he realized it. He knew what this was.

He was feeling what Thorin was feeling.  

It was his own skin against Thorin’s. Himself wrapping around him, giving him this addicting sensation. In and out. In and out.

There was a sudden spike in the pleasure and that was when Bilbo knew Thorin was close. He was as well, overwhelmed by all that he was feeling. It was bubbling deep within both of their stomachs, climbing higher and higher until it would explode clouding them both in ecstasy. And then it did, blanketing over them both as they came with an intensity that no other man has felt before, Bilbo spilling his seed between them and Thorin within him. They held onto that high for as long as they could, holding on to it before it was tucked away for later, for another passionate moment.

They finally came down from the stars to settle amongst the trees, letting out labored breaths and sighs of pleasure. Thorin collapsed on top of Bilbo, causing the hobbit to huff from his weight. However, he didn’t push him off, merely wrapped his arms around him and laughed. The king lifted his head to lazily kiss him, peppering kisses over his cheeks, his eyes, and nose.

Bilbo giggled like a child, pushing him away to brush the hair from Thorin’s eyes. They gazed at each other for a long, quiet moment, both lost in each other for an immeasurable amount of time.

“I love you.” Bilbo whispered, pressing a kiss to the king’s nose.

“And I you, _Ghivashel_.”  

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning.” Thorin smirked, shifting to Bilbo’s side and bringing him close.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Bilbo yawned as they both drifted off into the most peaceful sleep they had in a long time.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back, back again. 
> 
> Did I do good? D-Did I do good? I hope I did. 
> 
> I'm glad to be back. Hopefully all the way to the end of this dayum story. 
> 
> I suck at sex scenes. That's why I never write them. D:
> 
> I think we all needed this after BOFTA
> 
> Next Chapter: We're on to Erebor!


	14. Wholeness: Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final stage of a newly developed bond, wholeness is the feeling of complete and utter peace. By this time, the two souls have been joined together fully, allowing any holes within either to seem almost trivial.

Bilbo’s eyes slowly slid open, morning light streaming in through the windows. He turned to the side, quietly sliding himself around underneath Thorin’s arm. He grinned when he saw a mess of dark curls come into his vision, the owner of said curls still sound asleep. Bilbo brought his hand up to brush away the strands, finding Thorin’s slumbering face in the process. He let his thumb move over his features, marveling at how beautiful Thorin looked even in his sleep.

He looked years younger, sunlight dusting at his cheeks. Whatever had happened to him was nonexistent, lost to the peaceful tendrils of sleep. There was no need to steel his emotions, no need to throw a mask over himself and call it Thorin. He was simply a dwarf sleeping next to his soulmate, reveling in a peaceful slumber.

But Bilbo knew that wasn’t all true. He would always be Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain. But he was fine with that. That was who Thorin was and Bilbo saw no need to push who he was from his mind. He would love this stupid dwarf to the ends of eternity and beyond if there even was one.

The hobbit let out a quiet sigh as his hand passed over Thorin’s cheek, staying there for a gentle moment before following the line of his jaw. Bilbo still barely understood how he was able to be loved by such a grand person. Why was he so lucky to have found Thorin? Yes, they were soulmates but why did it have to be _him_? Whatever the cause, Bilbo was happy with it. He was actually the happiest he had ever been his entire life.

It felt like he was drifting on a cloud in an endless sea of euphoria. The world was brighter, existence several shades lighter than it normally was. Everything seemed surreal, bizarre, faint and strangely transparent. Bilbo’s troubles were still swimming within his mind, pulling and tugging at his fears and nerves but it was as if they had been haphazardly swiped with an eraser. Whatever trials and tribulations he was to encounter mattered very little at this moment, overshadowed by the slumbering face Bilbo was running his hand over. It was like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

_“What is on my face?”_

Bilbo’s hand stilled against Thorin and his brows furrowed in confusion. Where had that come from? It was like a tiny voice in the back of his head, whispering—

Just then, Thorin stirred beside him, arms shifting from around Bilbo to bring him closer. The king’s eyes fluttered open, smiling immediately when they focused on his hobbit.

“ _Good morning_ , _my love_.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s nose.

“Good morning to you too.” He smiled sweetly but recieved a strange look from his lover. It soon went away as Thorin sat up, stretching his arms high above his head and giving Bilbo a good view of his back muscles. “Can’t we just stay in bed?”

“I would love to lie here next to you for an eternity but unfortunately we can’t, _my treasure of all treasures._ ” Thorin sighed, turning around to look at him.

“Ok,” Bilbo pouted, sitting up as well. That same look touched the dwarf’s face, eyes narrowing slightly. “What?”

“Nothing,” Thorin chuckled though his eyebrows were still furrowed slightly. “I only hope the rest of our journey will be smoother than our previous endeavors.”

“You know it won’t.” Bilbo sighed. “But I hope so too.”

Thorin ran his fingers through his hair and Bilbo watched the movement with intense interest. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he could vaguely feel Thorin’s hair against his fingertips, moving against skin slowly and mesmerizingly.

“ _May Mahal grant Bilbo strength against Smaug._ ” Thorin murmured, rolling his shoulders.

“I’ll be fine.” The hobbit sighed, causing the dwarf to turn his head sharply. Confusion was evident at his brow once again.  

The king turned to face him fully, resting his hands on Bilbo’s knees. “ _Can you understand me?_ ”

“Of course, Thorin. It’s not like you’re speaking another language.” He snapped with a roll of his eyes.

“But I was. I was speaking Khuzdul.”

“The secret language of dwarves? I doubt it. I think I would have noticed if you were speaking another language, Thorin.” Bilbo scoffed.

“ _Are you completely sure about that?”_

“Yes, Thorin. I—” He stopped himself, eyes lifting to meet the dwarf’s in bewilderment.

He repeated their entire conversation in his head, starting from the moment Thorin woke up to now. It was then that he noticed the gruff changes in speech, the low toned words. Was it the bond? Was it doing this?

“I think so.” Thorin replied, fingers absently tangling within Bilbo’s hair.

“Was I—was I speaking out loud just now? I could have sworn I wasn’t.”

“I believe you were.” He replied slowly.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes, tilting his head as he gazed at his soulmate. _Are you hungry?_

“Famished actually,” Thorin replied nonchalantly. He continued to play with the hobbit’s hair until his eyes widened. “I can hear your thoughts.”

“I heard yours before you woke up.” Bilbo grinned. “This is amazing. I can understand Khuzdul! Do you know what that means?”

He bounced on the bed excitedly, hands gripping Thorin’s shoulders to keep him from falling over.

“You can understand Bifur?”

“Yes! I can finally hold a conversation with him without coming out thoroughly confused!” Bilbo climbed onto the king’s lap, kissing him soundly on the lips before grinning like a giddy schoolgirl. “This is amazing, Thorin!”

The dwarf let out a small chuckle which was soon accompanied by full blown laughter. Bilbo followed after, laughing until his sides hurt.

* * *

The arrival to the Lonely Mountain was swift, both boats reaching its shores in record time. The ground was tinged grey like spilt clay on floorboards and the sky simmered with a subtle darkness that signaled the night’s approach. The mountain itself was massive, overshadowing much of the sky. It was as if it had inserted itself among the celestial bodies, presenting itself with a looming bravado, daring anyone to approach.

Bilbo’s eyes flickered over Kili as they reached the summit of a tall hill, the entrance to Erebor fully visible. The young dwarf had insisted that he was fine but that did little to curb Bilbo’s worries. He had been injured during their escape from the Woodland Realm, an arrow catching his leg as he released a floodgate for the rest of the company.

His recovery was short lived in Laketown since the group had to leave almost as soon as they arrived. His leg appeared to not hinder him as he walked but that could have just been an act for the others. Thorin had thought to leave him in Laketown to recover but the young dwarf was adamant about journeying to the mountain. He appeared to have recovered but that recovery could change in the blink of an eye.

_“We just need to trust his judgement.”_ Thorin said, voice echoing deep within Bilbo’s mind. It was a sweet rumble of his king’s timbre, caressing his cheek and soothing his worries.

_It won’t keep me from worrying._

_“Ok, mom.”_

Bilbo’s lips quirked into a smile as Balin voiced the fact that Gandalf had told them to wait for him here. After a quick back and forth between Bilbo, Thorin, Dwalin and Balin, they (or at least Thorin) decided that they couldn’t wait any longer. Durin’s Day would soon be upon them and they needed to be at the door at the right moment. Bilbo had reluctantly agreed and the group set out to find stairs leading up to the hidden door.

“S-So, there’s a dragon just through those doors?” Ori asked quietly, nodding towards Erebor’s entrance.

“Aye, but don’t worry. I’ll protect you.” Dwalin smirked, playfully pushing the scribe.

“Are you nervous about facing the dragon, Bilbo?” Gloin asked as they entered an ashen field once flush with the people and markets of Dale.

“No. Surprisingly, I’m not.”

“I would be. You know, since it’s a _dragon_. All those teeth and claws and fire make my stomach turn. I wonder how fast it would take Smaug to—”

“You’re not exactly boosting people’s confidence, boy.” Gloin said rigidly, eying Bofur disapprovingly. The dwarf had just barely managed to make it onto the boat in Laketown.

Bofur shrugged as they continued moving. They separated from each other to search for some way up the outside of the mountain and Bilbo soon found Balin at his side, wringing his fingers one by one. The older dwarf’s eyes were bouncing between the hobbit and Thorin just a little ways ahead and Bilbo furrowed his brows in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

Balin took in a deep breath before saying, “I’m worried. I won’t lie about the fact that dragon sickness may fall upon Thorin. It may begin to consume him the moment we open that door. I only hope that we’ll be able to coax him out of it.”

“He’ll be fine. I’ll snap him out of whatever trace he’ll be in.” He smiled.

“He’ll think all of that gold is his. Anything can become one of his possessions.” Balin continued, ignoring his comment. “Anyone,”

Bilbo looked at him sharply. “What are you trying to say?”

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with his tired hands. “Just…be careful, laddie.”

“Everything is going to be alright, friend.” He smiled, touching his shoulder comfortingly. “Thorin will be fine.”

“Can you promise me that?”

“I…” He looked away, eyes running over the mountain, flickering from it to Thorin.

His gaze lingered on the dwarf king, committing every fiber of his being to memory. His eyes turned skyward again, catching a glimpse of chiseled stone in the process. He found that it belonged to a staircase built into the mountain itself. He nervously glanced at Balin before shouting that he had found something, moving away and effectively ending their conversation.  

They were up the stairs in no time albeit with help from each other. One would think stairs made by dwarves would be easy to climb for the exact same species that made them but it was the opposite. There were several long jumps between each stair and Ori nearly fell over the edge. Though, of course, Dwalin was there to catch him, settling him back down before he tumbled to his doom.

The stairs led up to a blank stone wall, surrounded by as much stone as one would expect on a mountain. The sun was now just beginning to set, sliding behind the horizon slowly and teasingly.

“Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the key-hole.” Balin said swiftly, eyes flickering between the sun and the wall.

“We just need to give it time.” Bilbo said hopefully, threading his fingers through Thorin’s.

And they did. Silence fell over the group as the sun became nothing more than a sliver, a tiny beacon of hope slowly drifting away. Dwalin grew erratic, hitting the wall with his axe and yelling at it to open. Nori had moved forward, trying to open the door somehow with his thieving expertise.

The further and further the sun went down, the further and further Thorin’s mood darkened. Bilbo could feel it, simmering somewhere in the back of his mind. The king had taken the map from Balin, looking it over quickly and feverishly. They must have done something wrong. They must have overlooked something. Or maybe they had gone to the wrong place. Maybe they needed to wait a little longer. Maybe they failed.

_Wait just wait a little longer_

_Dwalin will break the door open_

_Nori will find a way past the lock_

_I couldn’t have failed_

_I’ve come so far_

Bilbo closed his eyes, Thorin’s thoughts a blanket of sorrow at his shoulders.

_I couldn’t have wasted my time_

Then, suddenly, Bilbo felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. It felt as if a hammer had knocked him sideways, breath rushing from him in a desperate attempt at escape. Bilbo’s eyes snapped open and he watched his companions stare off after the sun, the bright ball disappearing completely. His eyes flickered back to the wall which was just as mundane as earlier.

His lips trembled with a sadness he was unable to voice. Thorin had taken his hand away, choosing to ball it into a fist. His chest rose and fell with the intensity of the situation and Bilbo felt his own join it in rhythm, harmonizing like all soulmates were able to do. The key was heavy at his neck, now feeling more like a paperweight than the personification of their future.

Even as Thorin dejectedly handed him the map and even as his companions slowly moved away from the door, Bilbo remained. They hadn’t of come this far for nothing. He and every member of their company knew that. He wasn’t just going to stand by and let this opportunity slip by them. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

No one should underestimate the courage of hobbits.

* * *

“Don’t try to wake the sleeping dragon. Got it.” Bilbo said quietly, giving Balin a wide smile.

Even though he was just about to jump into a haystack to find a needle, he wasn’t worried. He wasn’t feeling scared at all, actually. It was as if their problem with Smaug was miniscule in comparison to everything else he had faced. Or perhaps it was his bond with Thorin doing something, keeping him sane throughout everything that was happening and will happen. Regardless, his entire body was relaxed, ready to take on anything the dragon was going to do to him.

Balin patted his shoulder affectionately, lingering a little too long before returning to the others. Thorin was waiting patiently at the end of the hall, allowing the older dwarf to finish his conversation with the hobbit. Bilbo gave him a wide smile as he situated himself in front of him. The dwarf’s eyes were low, shoulders sunken slightly. His lips were set into a tight straight line, hands tense at his side.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll find the stone in no time.” Bilbo said softly, running his hand up the dwarf’s arm.

“I trust you. It is that demon I don’t.”

Thorin threaded his fingers through the hobbit’s hair, eliciting a contented sigh from the shorter person. “He’s asleep. I’ll make sure he stays that way. Besides, you’ll know if I need help.”

“It’s strange. I’m worried but at the same time…I’m not.”

“I know what you mean.” Bilbo smiled. “It’s as if the entire world still exists but I don’t care. All that matters is…”

His eyes flickered up to Thorin’s bright blues and the dwarf smiled sweetly, fingers dragging down Bilbo’s jaw to tilt his head upward. He pressed their lips together, moving them backwards to the wall. The hobbit responded swiftly, arms circling around Thorin’s middle. The kissed was quick, rapid, and sloppy and everything Bilbo wanted it to be at that moment. Passion slithered, bounced against their bond, throwing caution to the wind and moving between them until it circled around them both.

Who cares if there was a dragon only feet away? Who cares if they wake a sleeping giant? Who cares if they might never make it out of the mountain alive?

Thorin finally pushed the hobbit away, licking his lips with a sultry smirk. “You have a jewel to find.”

“I suppose I do.” Bilbo sighed. “I don’t even know what it looks like.”

“You do.” He grinned, tapping his head. “Just be careful.”

“I will.” He whispered, squeezing his soulmates’ hand before moving down the hallway. He cast one final glance at the dwarf before turning the corner.

 

The first thing that overtook him was the silence. It was unshakeable, deafening and everything he didn’t want. He wanted to be with the others again. He wanted to hear their songs, their tales, their merriment. Anything but this silence. It reminded him of all the dead scattered about, all this death. He could remember a time—he knew _Thorin_ could remember a time when these halls were filled with so many people. Dale was bustling with thousands of people and Erebor was stuffed with happiness and joy.

Now, there was nothing but a hobbit and a sleeping demon.

Bilbo emerged into a wide, vast area with large pillars holding up the entire structure. He paid no mind to it at first, watching his feet go down the steps one by one. However, the moment he looked over the edge his eyes grew wider than the mouth of a whale. A sea of gold glinted beneath a dim light, sparkling and inviting him to join it. This sea went on for miles, maybe even days. Coins, gems and goblets littered into the mix and Bilbo had to admit that it was beautiful. It was like a lake imbued with the shimmering beauty of the world’s richest minerals.   

This was the wealth of the dwarven people. This was the wealth of Erebor.

Though, a strange feeling simmered deep within Bilbo’s stomach. He couldn’t identify what it was but it felt…weird like it was intruding in his mind. It was there simmering slowly, building up for something big, something that would be made just for him. He wanted to pull at it, investigate it but as soon as it came it went.

He blinked away whatever that had been and continued down the stairs and onto the gold itself. It was cold against his feet but he moved as quietly as he could. It was obviously difficult due to it slipping and sliding beneath him. His eyes darted over ever jewel and every goblet, searching and seeking out the Arkenstone. But nothing was as grandiose and as magnificent as the crown gem.

He had seen a picture of what it looked like from Thorin’s mind. It was like a fallen star trapped in the realm of mortals, giving off its own beautiful light. It could bring even a man who had lost everything happiness, make a dying man cling to life for a few more minutes and make a child see everything his heart desires deep within its silver tendrils. It could even bring the strongest man to his knees.

It wouldn’t make Thorin’s heart grow dark. Bilbo would make sure of that. He would make sure the dwarf was grounded. He’d make sure that he would know that the treasure was only just that and he would make sure that everyone would get their share of the wealth. Even Thranduil if he said the right words.

Suddenly, Bilbo tripped slightly, causing a small avalanche of chalices and coins to tumble down a hill. He held his breath, eyes searching, not for a gem, but for a dragon. Gold shivered and stuttered, revealing the side of a dragon’s face. Bilbo stood there, mouth agape, wondering what in the heavens he could do to hide from that.

He hurried over to a pillar, pressing himself against it before peering around it. He heard another movement of coins, turning around to see a tail adjust itself against its prize. The hobbit let out a startled breath, putting together the immense size of the creature. He hesitantly stepped away from the pillar, slipping as he did. Smaug’s eye blinked open as it pushed away the sleep at its face.

Bilbo rolled over to a small mound of gold he thought he could hide behind. However, the sudden movement stirred the dragon into motion, shifting and moving until it dispensed of the gold at its scales. As Smaug shook himself of his hundred year sleep, Bilbo threw his ring on, heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

He staggered upward and attempted to control his breathing. He felt a slight tug at the back of his mind and he whispered, _I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. Dragon’s awake but I’m fine._ The tugging settled slightly but jostled the moment he mentioned the dragon. Bilbo only hoped that Thorin wasn’t going to come barging in and attack Smaug with a simple sword.

The dragon straightened up, head and neck circling around the pillar Bilbo had previously called home. The creature was as magnificent and as terrifying as Bofur had described, teeth indeed like razors. His scales were a deep auburn or perhaps a burnt chestnut. They shifted in the light, sparkling like an enraged flame.

The ring at his finger tugged at his thoughts, beckoning him to show himself to the dragon. He did all he could to shut this part of his mind from Thorin’s. He didn’t want the ring’s subtle meddling to find its way to his soulmate. It would be Bilbo’s, and only Bilbo’s, burden to bear.     

“Well thief, I smell you.” The dragon’s deep timbre, putting even Thorin’s to shame, rumbled against the walls of the treasury.  “I hear your breath. I feel your air. Where are you?”

Bilbo watched as the dragon spun his head around him, nearly staring him right in the eye as he breathed. It was in this instance that Bilbo felt the first tug of raw emotion at his heart. Fear.

He stumbled away, running down the hill of gold as fast as he could. Smaug laughed, following after him like a parent after a child. Another pillar came into view and Bilbo threw himself against it, making himself as small as possible. The dragon drew nearer, immense heat a pressure at Bilbo’s side. His head glided into view, a smirk—if dragons could even have one—at his teeth.   

“Come now don’t be shy. Step into the light.”

He was toying with him, playing with him. Smaug was making a game of this like a cat chasing a mouse.

“There is something about you., Something you carry.” His voice grew lower, so low that it vibrated against Bilbo’s chest quickening his already racing heart. “Something made of gold. But far more…. _precious_.”

_Show him. Show him. Show him._

_Let him sees us. Let us see him_

_He asks, we answer_

_We show, he tells_

Bilbo’s eyes fluttered, head growing lighter than a feather. Whispers against his ear increased in volume, moving his hand towards his ring and tightening around it. He ripped it off, forcing himself into view. Smaug made a satisfied rumbled, eyes widening as he looked the hobbit up and down.

“There you are, thief in the shadows.” Bilbo could practically hear the excitement in the dragon’s voice.

His thoughts were suddenly bombarded with all the information Thorin knew of dragons. In addition to everything he read in books, Bilbo took in several deep breaths. Dragons were vain, loved to talk and enjoyed flattery as much as a child loved candy.

“I didn’t come to steal from you. I-I only came to gaze upon your sheer splendor. I wanted to see if the old tales were true, O Smaug the Magnificent.”

The dragon tilted his head slightly, swiftly moving away to stand at his full height. He posed, craning his neck upward, body a statue of rigidity and power. “And do you now?”

“N-Nothing rivals that of your wonder, O Smaug the Stupendous. The tales fall utterly short of your beauty.”

“Do you think flattery will keep you alive?” The dragon bellowed.

“I-I—”

“You smell…familiar yet foreign just the same.” He inhaled twice, nostrils flaring with each action.

Bilbo stood in shock, unable to say anything. What could he?

“But what is familiar is something I detest. Dwarves,” He said the name slowly, hot breath ghosting over the hobbit’s face harshly.

“I am no dwarf, O Smaug the-the Marvelous. I’ve come alone.”

“I can see that you are not one of those worthless creatures.” He roared. “Though, I do not believe that you are the only one here.” Smaug moved his head closer, inhaling once more before widening his eyes in recognition. “I know this smell. This is among one of the scents I’ve smelled in this very room many years ago. It belongs to a dwarf hurrying to pull his grandfather from the throng of my beautiful gold. I remember this scent as if I had first smelled it yesterday.” Bilbo braced himself as Smaug finished, “Oakenshield.”

“I-I don’t know who that is.”

Smaug let out a series of chortled sounds that simulated that of a laugh. As he moved away, Bilbo glanced to his right and spied a glimmer of starlight in a mound of nothingness. He felt it calling to him, whispering for him to take it in his hand. The Arkenstone. He slowly moved towards it, eyes flickering between a laughing dragon and the crown jewel of all of Erebor.

“You know who he is more than most. I know what you are, creature. What you both are.”

Bilbo jumped towards the jewel as Smaug shifted violently. Gold was thrown about in the movement, tumbling the Arkenstone and Bilbo further and further down the mountain of gold. He rolled beneath a platform of some sort, falling against a support holding it up. He took in a deep breath, eyes running over the ground to see where his—the jewel went.

“You are beings of Yavanna: soulmates.” Smaug spit. “I could smell it the moment you stepped into this chamber. Creatures bound together from even before you existed. I wonder. I wonder if I can break the thread tying you together with just a snap of my jaw.” He cracked his lips together, resonating a sound of bone crushing strength.

Bilbo once against felt that tug of raw emotion spill into his being. He was terrified of what Smaug had just said, terrified that he could be right, terrified of being separated from Thorin. They were One now. One soul, two bodies. Even though he had lived over fifty years of his life as half of a person, he didn’t want to go back to that. Never again. Never again.

“Or perhaps, I kill you, I kill him. How far have you gone, thief? Are you still two or now One?”

His words made Bilbo hesitate. What did he mean?

Smaug’s tail created a wave of coins, throwing the Arkenstone further down the hill. He followed after it in exasperation, dodging coins and a dragon’s wings as he emerged from the platform. He ran as fast as he could, Smaug chasing after him with a fire in his eyes. And through it all the dragon continued to talk, voice bouncing against the walls like ripples in water.

“I’m almost tempted to let you take it.” Smaug breathed, standing rigidly a few paces away. Bilbo glanced down at the gem, a wash of nostalgia moving over him. “Only to have you watch it consume him, destroy him. Drive him to the brink of insanity.”

_It won’t. I won’t let it._

“T-That would be too kind, O Smaug the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities.”

“But I will not part with a single coin, not one piece of it. Alas, our little game is over.” Smaug shook his head, letting out a strong breath of air as he did. “So, tell me, liar, how would you like to die?”

Bilbo gasped as the dragon’s belly began to glow, an orange light of fire and brimstone. Smaug straightened up, muscles moving and contorting as he prepared for his attack. The hobbit glanced at the Arkenstone only a few feet away. He’d be able to lunge for it but he wasn’t sure if he’d dodge the dragon’s attack in time. He’d have to leave it, deal with the dragon first. It broke his heart knowing that he’d need to come back for it but he didn’t know why.

He shook himself of the feeling and braced himself, ring at the ready.

Suddenly, Smaug surged forward, mouth as wide as he could make it. Bilbo slipped the ring on, dodging to his right as the dragon’s lips smacked together violently. Smaug yelled, spitting fire from his lungs in a wide sweep. He ducked, running and running until he reached the stairs. He moved up them, ears ringing from Smaug’s incessant shouting. He was calling for him, screaming for the coward to come back.

Bilbo fell against a wall, taking the ring from his finger. He inhaled sharply as a pillar fell, gold and jewels skyrocketing from its impact on the ground. He carefully went back up the stairs, hesitating only when he would hear Smaug’s voice draw nearer.

He reached the top and was surprised to find Thorin rushing from around the corner. The king blinked at him for a brief moment, eyes running up and down his body. He stepped forward, cupping the hobbit’s cheek with his hand, the other gripping his sword rigidly.

“You’re alright.” He breathed and Bilbo smiled, leaning into the touch.

“I said I would be.”

Thorin let out a light laugh and he stepped towards the edge of the platform. A rush of air warmed his veins as his eyes laid upon the mountains of gold and jewels just miles below them. That same feeling slithered into Bilbo’s consciousness, slowing his breathing and glazing over his eyes. It was like a gentle touch at the back of his head, spreading down his neck and over his spine.

As opposed to the first time he felt it, it felt…tempting. He didn’t feel the need to wonder at it in disgust. It was slightly intoxicating, teasing. It was barely there, whispering into his ear and pulling him towards it. It made him want to move forward and wrap his arms around Thorin. It made him want to go back down the stairs and show Smaug who really owned this gold.

“Did you find the Arkenstone?” Thorin’s voice was deep, distant, melodic and inviting. Bilbo wanted him to talk for hours.

“No. Well, I did. I couldn’t get to it.” He rushed out, mesmerized by the way the dwarf’s hair was fluttering slightly from some unknown source of wind.

The dwarf made a noncommittal sound, turning his head slightly to look at Bilbo over his shoulder. He turned around fully, expression something he couldn’t figure out. Thorin’s eyes were slightly narrowed, skin crinkling around the edges. He wasn’t mad nor was he upset. His lips were parted slightly, head tilted in that same way it would be when he was examining something.

He leisurely moved towards Bilbo, almost predatory and methodical. His eyes flickered over him several times, chest rising and falling slowly. Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Thorin’s fingers gently moved up Bilbo’s face. His touch felt like an explosion of volcanoes, beautiful yet dangerous all the same. But Bilbo knew Thorin would never hurt him. His touch was addicting, sensual, distracting. Right now all he could focus on was the way in which Thorin moved his fingers, the sensation, the emotion flooding in from their bond.     

“What is it?” Bilbo whispered. His voice sounded foreign and almost far away like a dream.

Thorin’s eyes continued to move over him, following everything he touched. Bilbo suddenly became aware of how close they were. Thorin’s body heat kissed his arms, his hand a heavy presence at his temple. He even followed the slow drag of the dwarf’s tongue across his lips, aching to entangle it with his own.

_“The gold sickness runs strong in the line of Durin.”_

He looked into Thorin’s eyes, entire body shivering from the weight of his gaze. It was meant just for him. _Only_ for him. All of Thorin’s senses and thoughts were tuned only to Bilbo and he could feel it, the raw emotion dripping from their bond. It was…tantalizing.  

_“Anything can become one of his possessions. Anyone.”_

Thorin’s hand moved down to his hip, sliding around it until it settled at the small of his back. He pulled the hobbit forward and flush against his chest.

_“He looks at you like you are the Arkenstone.”_

Everything clicked into place. He should have stepped away immediately. He should have pushed the dwarf away, yelled at him to snap out of it. The dragon sickness was getting to him. It was slithering further and further into his mind until it named itself King Midas and destroyed everything it touched. All forces of the universe were pointing towards running away, towards sanity.

But instead, Bilbo’s mouth twitched into a smile.

He brought his hands up to Thorin’s chest, dragging them upward until they wrapped around the dwarf’s neck. He pressed their foreheads together, reveling in the surge of loyalty and devotion spilling from their bond. The king let out a predatory growl, crushing their lips together into a passionate kiss. Thorin’s sword clattered to the ground as he pulled at Bilbo’s clothes, trying to find some form of contact with skin.

This kiss felt different, hastier, more _possessive_. It was intoxicating, exhilarating. The air between them wrapped around them like a protective blanket, body heat pricking their skin and exciting Bilbo’s entire body. Each of Thorin’s touches sent sparks of want and desire through his nervous system, jumpstarting his heart and energizing his soul.

_“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.”_

Bilbo grinned hungrily, scratching his nails down the back of Thorin’s neck.

Only the roar of a dragon could pull them apart.

* * *

“You cannot go to Laketown!” Bilbo yelled as Smaug clambered to the front gate, gold spilling from his scales.

He stopped, turning his large head toward the tiny creature. “You care for them. All the more reason to destroy them.”

Bilbo ran after him as he burst through the gate, creating a strong gust of wind as he flapped his wings. He emerged outside, cold air stinging his skin. He looked up, trying to find the dragon’s large form in the night sky. Smaug shifted, spinning to rid himself of the excess gold at his back. He flew higher, roaring into the night like a werewolf on a full moon. He laughed, form moving further and further from Bilbo and towards Laketown.

The hobbit desperately ran after him, stopping at a pile of rock and debris. He climbed on top of it, eyes wide as he watched Smaug throw fire from his mouth and onto the innocent people of Laketown.

“What have we done?”

People were going to die because of what they did. They warned them not to wake the dragon. They warned them not to go to the mountain but they did it anyway. Their quest was too important to weigh the consequences of their actions against other things. And now they were paying for it. Smaug was going to destroy everything in his path. Laketown would become like Dale, a desolation akin to that from the deepest pits of hell.

Innocent people were going to die. Mothers. Daughters. Sons. People who had nothing to do with any of this. Their blood would be on their hands and nothing on this earth would be able to wash it away. This was their fault and they needed to atone for it. They needed to do all they could to…to…

Bilbo furrowed his brow.

They couldn’t just sit by and watch…watch…people…die…

It wasn’t right…

…They…

It was strange.

Bilbo didn’t care anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's thoughts will typically be in the _"words"_ style and I don't know how to Smaug.
> 
> Oh and I'm back for real this time. ;D It's about time I finish this dayum story. 
> 
> I've completed the rest of the chapters and am just putting the final touches on them. They'll be released over the course of the next few days. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Things get a little dark. Y'all know how much I love me some angst


	15. Wholeness: Brimstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final stage of a newly developed bond, wholeness is the feeling of complete and utter peace. By this time, the two souls have been joined together fully, allowing any holes within either to seem almost trivial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Rough sex, bloodplay, possessive!kink, slight S/M depending on how you view it

Kili was worried. He wasn’t just worried about the horde of elves and men gathering in the ruins of Dale. He was worried about his uncles. They weren’t…themselves. There was something off about them, something he couldn’t pick out. Thorin didn’t seem the least bit phased by the growing army just outside of their borders and he also didn’t appear to want to share their gold with anyone. The latter Kili could understand. The former was more alarming. The normal Thorin would be figuring out a way to repel the invaders, think up a battle plan. He would at least try to reason with Bard and Thranduil, avoid this conflict all together. But this Thorin wasn’t doing any of that. He was more focused on the treasury, ordering everyone to search for the Arkenstone and rebuild the gate Smaug had broken down.

Bilbo was also slightly off. He moved about as if he were in a dream, pensively and distractedly. He was more proud and arrogant, acting more like a child on a pedestal than a modest hobbit. Though, there would be instances where Kili would find him staring at a wall blankly, contemplating something that the dwarf couldn’t even grasp. Sometimes his eyes would shift in an instant, moving from peaceful and wondering to something much darker, something much more sinister. He’d carry the bravado of a manipulative snake and the tenacity of a spoiled creature.

The two were rarely apart and when they were, these darker shifts in personality would be less of a bother though they would always remained. When they were together, it was as if a thundercloud would fall over the entire room. The two would be more responsive to each other, acting like they were the only ones in existence. Bilbo would be like a cat, curling up at Thorin’s side and the king would gaze at him with eyes brighter than starlight.

Kili and his brother both knew it was because of the dragon sickness. It was consuming Thorin and making him act so unbecoming of himself. Balin had voiced his concern to the duo, whispering about how Thorin had already begun to change the moment they opened the hidden door. He had seen a shift in his eyes, a sort of greediness, a deep desire for everything and anything golden. He had seen it in Thrór, watched it consume him until he was an empty shell of who he once was. The brothers had been warned of what might happen to Thorin once they had liberated the mountain.

They hadn’t of expected it to happen to Bilbo too.

The hobbit was supposed to be the one to pull Thorin from his madness, not join him in it. They needed him to snap Thorin out of his spell. Every plan they had conceived in preparation of this moment involved Bilbo in some way. He was the key to make Thorin normal again. They didn’t plan for the sickness infecting him too. They didn’t know their bond would do this, destroy the only hope they had for better days.

What could they do?

* * *

 

“If we find it,” Kili whispered, running his fingers over the gold beneath him. “We shouldn’t give it to them.”

Fili didn’t answer, looking away from his pile of gold and up the stairs. He found Bilbo and Thorin standing at the summit of the stairs, whispering to each other. He saw the king say something, causing Bilbo to laugh, throwing his head back jovially. He snuggled closer beneath Thorin’s arm, hand drawing circles at the dwarf’s stomach.

“We shouldn’t give it to them.” Kili repeated, a slight tremor in his voice. “We shouldn’t give it to them.”

“What are we supposed to do then? Hide it from them? They’ll find it. They’ll surely find it. How do you think Uncle will react in his current state?” Fili hissed, drawing his hands into fists.

“How do you think he’ll react if we give him the Arkenstone?” He threw back hurriedly.

“He doesn’t need it anymore.” Fili said softly, lips turning downward. “Bilbo’s all he needs.”

“So, it’s hopeless? I don’t believe that!” He murmured, eyes flickering over the other members of the company. Dwalin and Ori were rigidly searching for the stone by a pillar while the Ur and Ri brothers moving about a few feet away from them.

“I just…” Fili sunk to the ground, staring at his trembling hands. “I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

Kili let out a sigh. He understood what his brother was feeling. All their lives they looked up to Thorin. They would always turn to him when times were tough because they knew that he would still be levelheaded. When their father died, Thorin was the only one who remained strong. He had been their anchor as they drifted through the stages of grief. Ever since then, they had vowed that they would follow him anywhere, into the depths of hell and back. They trusted his judgement above anyone else’s, even their own mother’s. Thorin was everything to them. He was what they both wanted to be. He was who they wanted to see rule Erebor. He was their dream.

But now he was their nightmare.

Their father figure was falling into the depths of insanity and their only hope of salvation was falling with him. Bilbo and Thorin had always nurtured and protected them from the start. The hobbit had taken to the role of their caregiver from the moment he joined the company. And they loved his attention. It felt wonderful to be loved in the way Bilbo chose to love them. When he cared for them, it rivalled the love and devotion they received from their mother. They could forget that they were on a dangerous journey, on something akin to a suicide mission. Bilbo had soon become their uncle as well.

Neither Fili nor Kili would ever admit it but they needed both Bilbo and Thorin to keep them strong. It wasn’t a dependency on them but more of a symbiotic relation. They fed off of Thorin’s strength and bravery and Bilbo’s comfort and guidance, allowing them to do incredible things. Their uncles enabled them to be the best that they could and it always felt like a helping hand at their shoulders.

Now? Now it was like…it was like the universe had played a cruel joke on them, removing Bilbo and Thorin from the equation and showing them just how pathetic they were. Kili had to admit that it felt like a bolt of lightning had struck him, throwing his mind into a daze and making him walk around aimlessly until he was sheltered from harm. He knew his brother felt the same though he hid it from others, knowing that a future king wasn’t meant to show his weakness.

“Are you boys alright?”

Bilbo’s voice startled both of them, turning to find their hobbit standing over them with his head tilted to the side. A wide smile was painted on his face, hands laced behind his back.

“Yes, Uncle Bilbo. Just tired is all,” Fili said smoothly, laughing for good measure.

“Oh, I couldn’t blame you. Finding the Arkenstone won’t be easy. There is so much gold…” His gaze swept over the treasure, slowly and dreamily.

Kili saw that same flicker in his eyes, that swift shift from happiness to insanity. They carried a darkness, a darkness that made every piece of gold twinkle with a beautiful aura. Kili saw it too sometimes, rivalling that of the moon’s light. But he would quickly shake his head of it, knowing that it was something he wouldn’t dare indulge.

“But are you sure you’re alright? I could see that something was off.” His voice drifted lower in pitch, slowly and suspiciously.  

Fili nodded sharply. “All is well, Uncle Bilbo.”

“And you, Kili? Is your leg still bothering you?”

The dwarf took in a deep breath and shook his head. “It’s mostly healed. We’re only tired.”

Bilbo leaned down, raising his hand and resting it at Kili’s cheek. “Then take a little break. We wouldn’t have you falling down dead now, would we?”

He dragged his nails down the dwarf’s cheek roughly, eyes darkening to an abysmal black. His fingers wrapped around Kili’s neck, tightening almost painfully around it. The dwarf struggled to breathe, air becoming sparse as Bilbo’s hand continued to constrict his throat. Fili was frozen at his side but he slowly began to fall from Kili’s vision as it darkened. His eyes fluttered, throat nearly succumbing to the pressure. However, suddenly, Bilbo released him, the dwarf instantly taking in air as he coughed violently.

“No. We wouldn’t want that.” The hobbit’s lips twitched into a bright smile as he stood up, picking imaginary lint from off his coat. He gave them another once over before moving past them and towards Thorin who was speaking to the Ur dwarves.

Kili fought to draw air into his lungs, throat throbbing in pain. He let out a shaky breath, bringing his arms around himself. That wasn’t his Uncle Bilbo. The nail scratches still felt fresh against his skin. A steady burning sizzled in his throat and not even his brother’s arms around him could stop it. Did Bilbo just—He didn’t want it to be true. He had never felt this uneasy around his uncle. He would always be able to drown himself in the hobbit’s warm and welcoming presence but right now he was at the depths of a toxic lake, burning his skin and breaking his bones.

“Kili,” Fili’s voice felt far off against him even though he was wrapped around him comfortingly. The dwarf turned his head slowly, expecting Bilbo to still be there.

But his eyes caught a glimpse of a radiant light hidden between Fili’s legs. Even from underneath the gold, Kili felt the power of the Arkenstone. It was like a subtle thrum at the back of his mind, spreading warmth across his neck. His eyes flickered over the other members of their company who were too busy with their own tasks to notice the two huddled beside each other. Even Thorin and Bilbo were too engrossed in each other to see.

“You can’t give it to them. You can’t. It will-will destroy them.” Kili rushed out, throat struggling to give him speech.

His brother put a finger to his lips, pocketed the gem and returning to sifting through the gold as if he had never found the Arkenstone.

* * *

 

As the sun sunk below the horizon, Thorin finally allowed the others to stop searching for the stone. Fili and Kili stood over the whole of the treasury, eyes wide with wonder and disgust. Part of them felt an obligation to the horde but another wanted to spit in its face. This _thing_ was ruining their uncles and had it never existed none of this would have ever happened. Smaug would never have come and Erebor would never have fallen. Though, it would also have meant that Thorin would never have met Bilbo. Perhaps there was indeed some good to this gold.

Or maybe the gold sickness was finally starting to get to Kili. He didn’t know why it didn’t affect his brother and himself as much as it did Thorin. Perhaps the sickness only affected the current king and it somehow knew who that was. Or perhaps it used a slow, subtle approach, pulling at the strings of one’s mind until it unwound it.

“There’s so much.” Kili breathed, voice still slightly hoarse.

“Indeed,” A low timbre filtered into the room, making him jump and Fili stiffen.

Kili turned his head to find Thorin standing behind them, nodding his head in greeting. He was clad in gold jewelry from head to toe, fur and fine leather littering into the mix. An intricate crown touched the top of his head and whatever modest uncle they had was lost behind that metal of insanity.

“Uncle!” He smiled, quelling the tremble in his fingers and the burning at his throat.  

“What do you boys think of your inheritance now that you’ve finally gazed upon it?” Thorin’s voice was lower than normal, ghostly yet intimidating all the same.

_Disgusted. Appalled. Terrified. Angry._

“It’s beautiful.” Fili whispered and Kili could see the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple.

“And it’s all ours.” Thorin hissed, a dragon-like roar at his tongue.

“Do you not think to give the people of Laketown what you promised?”

“Where were the Men when we needed them the most? The Elves? I am not parting with a single coin, not one piece of it. It is ours and ours alone.” Thorin stepped closer, hands coming up to grip both of their shoulders. His touch made Kili’s veins twitch in fear.

“But—”

“And anyone who thinks otherwise will be dealt with accordingly.” His voice was dangerously close to their ears, a foreboding melody of fire and brimstone. His grip tightened unbearably around their shoulders and it took all of Kili’s willpower to not slap him away. “But we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

_“We wouldn’t have you falling down dead now, would we?”_

Kili’s eyes widened at the similarities between Thorin’s and Bilbo’s words, subtle threats to those whose loyalties were wavering. His heart threatened to burst from his chest, sweat forming at his brow.

Did he know they had the Arkenstone?

“Goodnight, boys.” The king whispered slowly, dragging out the last word like a chilled knife against skin. He ghosted a finger over the bruises at Kili’s throat before letting out a short laugh.

Thorin’s hands disappeared, footsteps echoing off of the emerald floor.

Kili stood there, mouth agape and eyes unfocused. Fili’s hand at his arm couldn’t reign him from his shock. _That_ had just happened. Both of his uncles had threatened them. His _uncles_ threatened them. Kili could always get intimidated by Thorin. It was easy with the way the dwarf carried himself. But at no point in his life had Kili ever felt scared of him. Right now he was terrified, knees shaking from the weight of his words. He was _petrified_.

Did the sickness know no boundaries? Did it not care about familial ties? O-Or friends? How far would the sickness go? Would it force Thorin to question the loyalty of all his companions?

Fili nervously touched his jacket in the spot the Arkenstone rested.

Was it already too late?

* * *

 

“How dare he? How _dare_ that worthless piece of trash demand a piece of our treasure? Bard had no right, no right to ask of that from _me_.” Thorin shouted, throwing his hands into the air and pacing back and forth.

Bilbo smiled softly, rolling his eyes. They were in what used to be a guest room. Nothing remained but dust and memories but they all had to make do with what they had.

That morning, Bard had requested an audience with the dwarf-king asking for what he had promised them. Thorin denied him politely—or as politely as he deemed necessary—and retreated further into the safety of the mountain. Internally, he had been seething. Bilbo had felt it immediately, rushing to the fuming king’s side as he stormed away from the others. His companions had too asked about sharing a portion of the wealth with the men and Thorin immediately shot them down, choosing to rather go to war than give them what they wanted. That had garnered an outburst from Kili who immediately retreated into his shell the moment his uncle laid eyes on him.

“You still refused him.” Bilbo whispered, stepping towards the enraged dwarf. “You didn’t give him what he wanted.”

“Why can’t they understand that this treasure is ours and ours alone?” Thorin’s voice cracked slightly as he stopped pacing, eyes trained on the wall in front of him.

Bilbo wrapped his arms around the king, eliciting a soft sigh from him. “They’re simpletons. They’re selfish. They want what they can’t have.”

“A-And the _others_. I can’t trust them-can’t trust. They all speak of treason. They want to join the Men and those worthless Elves. I can see it. I can’t even trust my own nephews. Can’t trust them. Can’t trust them at all. They want me dead. All of them.” Thorin huffed out, breathing growing erratic.

Bilbo nuzzled his head against the king’s back, sending as much love and devotion he could through the bond. Thorin immediately calmed, muscles relaxing and mind stilling. He turned around, gazing down at the hobbit with so much emotion that it could make even the toughest man cry. The dwarf brought his hand up to dust away a few strands of hair from Bilbo’s eyes, touch gentle and endearing.

He began to smile and Bilbo’s heart thundered at how handsome the dwarf looked, golden jewelry glinting in the light.

“At least I will always have you. You are more than enough for me.” Thorin murmured, gaze almost possessive. “All the gold in the world could not amount to your worth.”

Bilbo grinned, a giddiness running over him like a bucket of cold water. A fuzziness touched his mind as Thorin ran his fingers through his hair. It was a beautiful sensation, one that clouded everything around the room except for the dwarf in front of him. Everything about Thorin was magnified, showing Bilbo just how stunning he was. He wanted nothing but to please him.

“What would you say if I said that I claim every bit of you for myself?” Thorin whispered, breath ghosting over his ear.

His eyes fluttered, breath hitching in excitement. His entire body sparked into existence, ready for whatever the dwarf had in mind.

“I’d say,” Bilbo’s hand slid down Thorin’s chest, memorizing every bit of his body as if it were a masterpiece. His hand slipped into his pants, fingers entangling around his hardening member, stroking it ever so slowly. He elicited a low groan from his mate, urging him to say, “Then take it.”

The king surged forward, lips finding Bilbo’s in a flurry of limbs. He was pushed against the wall, a gasp falling from him in surprise. Thorin need not wrestle for dominance. Bilbo gave it to him willingly, easily and urgently. He loved when the king was in control. He loved when his emotions got the better of him and he was a little rougher than he normally was. He loved the marks he’d leave on his pale flesh. He loved being _owned_ by him.

Between kisses, they hurriedly dispensed of their clothes, skin finding skin in a rush of movement. The moment their bodies met without fabric between them, stars exploded in Bilbo’s eyes, spreading an intoxicating sensation across his limbs. He moaned into it, inhaling when Thorin’s hand met his rear. The king pushed him upward and he instantly wrapped one leg around the dwarf’s middle, the other keeping him steady on the ground. Kisses travelled down his neck, tongue finding flesh as it left dark marks in its wake.

Bilbo thrust forward, effectively rubbing his member against Thorin’s, making them both gasp from the sensation. He continued the movement, a steady rhythm finding itself quickly. The king captured him in another kiss, tongues dancing together in a macabre ballet of possession and greed. Thorin’s hand slid between them, wrapping around them both and adding its own beat to their voracious dance.

It was too much and not enough. Their bond sizzled between them, lacing Bilbo with the same pleasure his mate was feeling, pulling him further and further down the rabbit hole. He wanted to do everything he could to please Thorin, give him what he wanted, needed and desired. Everything. Everything. Give him everything. All he could. Until everything in the cosmos revolved around him.

Thorin moved to break the kiss but before he could, Bilbo bit down on his lip, hard, drawing blood and filling his taste buds with that sweet coppery substance. The king smirked, the red liquid sliding down his mouth and onto his chin. He swiped his tongue over it, taking in his own blood. He captured the hobbit’s lips with his own again, the coppery taste returning to him at last.

“You’re rough today.” He breathed out in amusement, kisses falling back to those dark marks at Bilbo’s collarbone.

“Playful,” He moaned as Thorin’s hand teased at his entrance, littered in pre-cum. “But the question is: are you game?”

The king paused slightly and Bilbo could feel his lips curl into a Cheshire smile. “Oh I’m game.”

Thorin bit down on his shoulder as his fingers entered him, making Bilbo yell out in surprise. He took in several deep breaths as pleasure flooded in through the bite at his neck, eyes fluttering from the sensation. He could feel Thorin’s teeth pierce his skin, blood sliding down his chest. Bilbo drew him upward, kissing him and tasting himself at his lips.

“Mark me. Hurt me. Punish me.”

“Gladly,” Thorin hissed out.

His hand shifted against his rear, scratching it roughly as the hobbit wrapped his other leg around his middle. Thorin’s fingers spread themselves wider in him, throwing a desperate whine from his mate. He lifted Bilbo, removing his fingers and situating himself perfectly at his entrance, the tip just barely touching. He swiped his tongue over the fresh bite at Bilbo’s shoulder, dragging it over the marks slowly and teasingly. He finally lowered the hobbit, quickly sheathing himself within him.

Bilbo let out a long moan, head thrown back against the wall as the king began to move. He was quick, slow, smooth and rough, teasing, aggressive and everything Bilbo had asked for. He wanted Thorin to do whatever he wanted to him, exhaust him, break him, ruin him. He wanted to see just how much Thorin loved him, how much he wanted him. He wanted to _feel_ it, get drunk on his dominance, feel his power.

Show him what it mean to be Thorin Oakenshield’s.

The dwarf growled, picking up speed as his teeth scraped at Bilbo’s jaw. The hobbit was reduced to cries of pleasure and carnal noises and Thorin did nothing to quell them, moving at such an angle that hit him in the perfect spot.

“Louder. I want the others to hear. I want all of Middle Earth to hear. I want the world to know who you belong to.” He growled, going faster and faster, pushing Bilbo further and further towards the edge.

Bilbo happily obliged his request, voice rising in volume, lips curling into a smile. He could feel himself getting closer, their bond strengthening around them both. He knew Thorin was close too, ragged breaths increasing in volume, the sensation in his belly mirrored in Bilbo’s. It would erupt soon and he’d welcome it, bring him closer and closer to his soulmate. He needed it to.

_“Mine. All of you. No one can take you away from me.”_

And then it happened. Bilbo came with a force rivalling that of a raging hurricane, stars and comets failing in comparison to the blinding light in his eyes. Thorin followed after him, magnifying the explosion by a thousand, creating its own Big Bang within him. A sizzling warmth filled him, bringing him back down to earth and making his eyes flutter open.

Thorin was staring at him, sweat at his brow and chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. It completely contrasted his earlier expression, softness touching his eyes and features smoother and gentler. Bilbo grinned and Thorin returned it, kissing him sweetly before pushing them away from the wall. He lowered his mate onto their jumbled pile of clothes and Bilbo shifted their coats around to make a sort of blanket beneath them.

He stretched out above it, eyes closing and muscles pleasantly aching as he extended his arms. After having his fill, he opened his eyes to find Thorin standing above him, staring at him mesmerized. Bilbo blinked at him for a few moments before shaking his head in confusion.

“What?”

“You are by far the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on.” Thorin breathed out, lowering himself to the ground.

A giddy, childish giggle escaped Bilbo’s lips before he could stop it and he covered his mouth in embarrassment. He turned tomato red causing his mate to laugh. “Oh, why’d you say that?”

“Should I not have?” Thorin asked in amusement, kissing the hobbit’s forehead lovingly.

He shook his head frantically. “It only makes me love you more.”

His dwarf smirked, lowering his head to his ear and whispering, “I cherish what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?” Bilbo murmured, twitching as he moved his aching shoulder. That bite mark would need to be taken care of properly later.

“Mine,” Thorin growled.

* * *

 

“Hello, Balin.” Fili said politely as he saw the older dwarf walking the opposite direction in the hallway.

The dwarf looked up from where he was staring, eyes tinged red. He sniffled before saying, “Ah! Hello, boys.”

The brothers shared a look before Kili asked, “Are you alright?”

Balin’s smile faltered, gaze darting around before he beckoned the dwarves closer. “Honestly? No.”

Fili knew. He knew why. A quick glance at his brother told him that he did too.

“I-I watched the dragon sickness consume your great-grandfather. I watched it destroy him, nearly kill him. I promised myself, I told myself that I would do whatever it took to save Thorin from that fate. But have you seen what has happened? He won’t negotiate peace nor will he be reasonable. He would much rather die than give up that treasure. It’s consuming him just like it did his grandfather. And now it has Bilbo too? I can’t-I can’t watch this happen. I can’t!”

A movement caught Fili’s attention and he turned his head to see his brother’s face fall apart, fingers ghosting over his throat. Tears threatened to spill but he knew his brother enough to know that they would never give. At least not in public. But he couldn’t hide that look in his eyes, that hopelessness. Hearing those words right from Balin’s mouth must have made something snap in him. That one thread of hope had just been thrown to the wind and Fili had watched it happen.

“I’m glad the Arkenstone has not been found yet. That jewel will not ease their sickness.” Balin said hoarsely, hands balling into fists.

Fili’s hand touched the spot the jewel was situated, a faint thrumming touching his fingers.

“But it has not consumed you yet. That is something to be happy about I suppose.” The older dwarf smiled, eyes darting over the marks at Kili’s neck.

Fili absently followed after his brother as he stormed away. Doorway after doorway flitted from view before he burst through one of them, throwing his hands into the air.

 Kili slumped against the wall, sliding down until he hit the ground. He brought his knees to his chest, eyes vaguely following his brother who was slowly moving into the room. It appeared to be an old library, desolate now but once an oasis of knowledge. Books were thrown about, strewn with dust and cobwebs. Some of the shelves were overturned probably due to Smaug’s mad thrashing. All that remained were soft dreams of safety and security. But that was all they were. Dreams.

Fili stopped in front of a bookshelf, hand rising up to run over its dusty stone. He let out a tired sigh, fingers finding the Arkenstone at his pocket. It was a weight against him, ominous, dangerous. It would be his uncles’ downfall, their ruin. He needed to do something to bring them out of their madness, set them free. But what could two simple dwarves do?

He turned his head, gaze finding his brother’s on the ground. Kili looked worse for wear, shoulders slumped and wrinkles at his brow. A faint purple dusted at the skin of his throat. Fili knew this was affecting him more than he let on. Kili was the one out of them who let his emotions get the better of him. Emotional attachments were inevitable for his brother. The dwarf would see the stars in your eyes the moment he met you. It was just who he was.

The changes in Bilbo and Thorin were getting to his brother adamantly. It was getting to Fili too but he knew that Kili was feeling the brunt of this shift. He loved them with all of his heart. Even though he would never admit it, Kili was being broken apart by their sickness. Bilbo’s love and affection were nonexistent. Thorin’s strength and guidance were now far off memories.

Fili could only do so much. He needed to be a leader but all he wanted to do was curl up and try to sleep his troubles away. He wanted to wake up from this cruel dream, embrace his uncles again. But he knew this wasn’t some fake illusion. It was the cold slap of reality at his back. He would have been able to handle everything better if it was only Thorin falling but Bilbo was with him too. The brothers were alone, starved of their uncles’ attention.

Fili had to laugh at that. They sounded like spoiled brats.  

But no more. Things don’t get handed to people on a silver platter and things don’t just happen because they want it to. One had to do things themselves. Things got done when people worked for them not when they waited for something to happen. As heir to Erebor’s throne, Fili should have seared that into his mind early in his life. He had been so ambitious and idealistic at the start of their journey. He should have known that there was a lot of grey in a black and white world.

Fili should have done something the moment Bilbo’s fingers had curled around his brother’s neck. He should have pushed him away, threw himself onto his brother. But he didn’t. He had been frozen in fear, any ounce of bravery nowhere to be seen. His limbs had refused to move, his mind a broken canvas. He could only watch as his once loving uncle drew the air from his brother’s lungs. He had been pathetic, a dog commanded by his master to stay.

He needed to stop doing nothing.

Bilbo and Thorin won’t be saved by waiting around. Something needed to be done.

Kili brought his hands to his lips, eyes an empty shell of a once jovial dwarf.

Right now Fili needed to be the man he should have been all along, dauntless and unwavering. He needed to be the man Thorin could call his equal.

His brother needed him, needed his help. He had lost all hope for a future with his uncles that ended with all of them happy. His motivation was gone, his fire snuffed. He was frightened. Fili could feel it from where he was standing. All of his hope had been squeezed out of him the moment Bilbo’s hands found his neck. Kili was the optimist in times of great turmoil but now he was drowning in a sea of stark reality.

“Courage, dear brother.” He said, startling the young dwarf.

Kili looked up at him as he approached, lips a tight frown. “Courage? Where am I supposed to find that?”

“Oh it’s not something you can pick up and use.” Fili sighed, shrugging. “Though you can find it.”

“Where?” His brother whispered, voice fragile against the air.

“In yourself,” He smiled. “You have to give it to yourself. The best time to find it is when there is none left.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh, brother, it does.” Fili said, kneeling in front of him. “Because the courage you find when you are starved of it is the greatest of them all. It means that you challenge your fate, spit in the face of adversity. That courage is what moves mountains and makes you do the impossible. Light is at its brightest in the darkest of hours.”

Kili’s lips trembled as he absorbed what his brother said. “But—”

“The brother I know wouldn’t just sit down and take what the world gave him. He’d push against it, work with whatever he had, break walls and build bridges. My Kili would never accept defeat nor would he ever back away when others needed him the most. He would light up a room with his enthusiasm and threaten the darkness with his own fists. But I can’t seem to find him. Is he still in there?”

The archer lowered his head onto his knees, letting out a heavy breath as his hands circled around his neck. “I don’t know.”

“Well tell me if you find him. I’m going to need all the help I can if I’m going to bring our uncles back.” Fili said upbeat, taking in a rigid gulp before standing up. “And I _will_ bring them back.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because,”

“Because what?” His brother asked, looking up at him curiously.

“Just because!” Fili laughed, spreading his arms.

Doubt fell from Kili’s lips, brows furrowing as he tried to gauge where this sudden mood change came from. “You can’t just—”

“Courage in the darkest hour, dear brother. What is a world without hope? If our roles were reversed, Bilbo and Thorin would do everything in their power to save us. They’d hop over ever obstacle like it was nothing. They would do whatever it takes to bring us back. Why can’t we do the same? They’re counting on us, brother. Now is not the time to lose hope especially when hope can still be saved.”

The archer let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Spoken like a true king.”

“I try not to disappoint.” He grinned, holding his hand out to him.

Kili stared at it for a small moment, eyes bigger than the sun. He took it slowly, curling his fingers around it almost desperately. Fili yanked him upward, throwing his arms around him the moment he was at his full height.

“Besides, what would Uncle say if he found out you were being a little baby?”

“He’d probably make me do some back-breaking labor to get it out of my system.” Kili chuckled. “Or, well, there’s a 50/50 chance he would either do that or give me an inspirational speech.”

“Uncle Bilbo would do the speech thing. Actually, now that I think about it, he has a 50/50 chance to do the labor thing too.”

The brothers parted enough to look at each other, two wide grins on their faces. They began to laugh, shoulders shaking with its intensity. Their laughter filled the room, bouncing off the walls like a ray of sunshine.

“So, Master Fili, what exactly is your plan to bring our uncles back?”

Fili’s hand fell to the Arkenstone at his pocket, face losing all traces of his previous merriment. “We’re going to do something that might get us killed.”

* * *

 

Bilbo’s eyes must have been playing a trick on him. They must have. The jewel of the mountain, the beautiful star of Erebor was held in the hands of a mere man, Bard the Bowman. He had said that it was to be used to barter for Thranduil’s jewels and Bard’s share of the wealth. But how did they get it? How did it come from the depths of the treasury and into that…thief’s hands? Someone had to have found it, hidden it away and given it to them. But who? Who would betray Thorin’s trust? Who would _dare_?

Bilbo’s eyes ran over each member of the company, disbelief throwing his mouth open wide. He could feel Thorin seething, a volcano ready to erupt. He had been right not to trust the others. All he had was Bilbo. The hobbit’s gaze drifted over each dwarf, gauging their reactions to his stare. They were shaken and nervous, yes, but none of them seemed frightened.

Until he found Fili and Kili.

Both dwarves didn’t appear scared nor did they look meek. Their heads were held high, backs straight and rigid. It was as if they were waiting for something, ready for whatever was to come. They held Bilbo’s gaze defiantly, hands held together tightly. The hobbit’s eyes flickered back to the Arkenstone and found Kili’s gaze shifting between it and him. It couldn’t have been—

“You dare betray me?” Thorin said, voice low and predatory. He turned his whole body towards them and Fili took in a sharp breath, holding the king’s fiery glare. “After-after everything I’ve done for you? AFTER EVERYTHING I SACRIFICED FOR YOU?”

**Traitors. Traitors. Thorin’s own nephews. Traitors**.

**Wanted him dead. Gave in to the enemy.**

**Betrayed. Betrayed Bilbo. Thorin. Everyone. Wanted the gold for themselves. Enemies**

_Fili. Kili. Nephews. Bilbo’s boys. His lovable boys_

**Deserved to die. Didn’t matter who they were. Threatened the gold. Threatened the kingdom.**

_Charismatic. Always brought a smile to his face. Loved him as much as he loved them._

**Betrayed them. Betrayed them all. Went behind their backs. Villains. Snakes.**

_Wouldn’t have done it unless it was necessary. Care for us. They care. They wouldn’t—_

**BETRAYAL. BETRAYAL. BETRAYAL.**

Bilbo’s eyes fluttered as Thorin moved towards them, hand twitching at his side.

_Bilbo Baggins lives in a hole in the ground. Bilbo Baggins doesn’t care for gold. He only cares about Thorin. Fili. Kili. The Company. Bilbo Baggins is a gentle soul. He loves his nephews. Bilbo Baggins cares little for material things. Bilbo Baggins wouldn’t let Thorin harm his nephews. Bilbo Baggins wouldn’t let Thorin fall into madness._

_I am Bilbo Baggins._

Thorin swiftly drew his sword, aiming it at Fili’s throat. Everyone moved at the same time. Kili struggled to push his brother away, Balin and Dwalin yelled out for their king to stop, the others moved in unison towards them. And Bilbo stepped in front of the blade, holding his nephews back protectively. He held Thorin’s gaze as the dwarf’s face contorted in confusion, their chests rising and falling in unison.

_“You too?”_

The blade fell to the ground with a resounding clatter and with one final glance, Thorin stormed down the steps of the battlements. He disappeared into the depths of the mountain, footsteps fading into dust.

Silence filled the company, Fili and Kili breathing heavily behind Bilbo. The hobbit turned around slowly, eyes wide as he met his boys’ gaze. It was in that moment that he noticed the dark circles under their eyes, the paleness at their faces. Their hair was matted, clothes terribly unkempt. They looked like someone had broken them in two and had lazily thrown them back together with parts in the wrong places. And then there were the marks at Kili’s throat, a seething reminder of what Bilbo had become.

“What have we done to you?”

 

Bilbo later found Thorin in the main foyer, legs collapsed beneath him as he gazed at his reflection on the golden floor. His crown was several feet away from him, a demon in disguise. Their bond was silent between them but neither of them needed it to convey what they felt. Their regret, sorrow, and pain had their own pedestals.

He stepped closer, gaining the king’s attention. Thorin turned his head, hair strewn about his face. His eyes were dim and vacant, akin to that of a desert in winter. Even a blind man could see that he was suffering. He had at some point dispensed of all of his golden jewelry, cloak thrown to the side. Right now, he was just a dwarf wallowing in his own mistakes.

Thorin sat up, lips trembling with words that would break Bilbo’s heart. He crawled towards him, breath a whirlwind of desperation. He wrapped himself around Bilbo’s waist, burying his head in his stomach. The hobbit blinked away the tears that threatened to fall from his face, cradling his arms around his mate’s head.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Thorin whispered, voice muffled against his coat. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Their bond flared into motion, flooding Bilbo’s senses with all of the emotions Thorin was experiencing. It flickered from sadness to regret, from worthlessness to hate, from cowardice to pity in seconds, shifting and never staying with just one. Images of what they had done flitted through Bilbo’s mind, rigid reminders of the lowest point in their lives. Their greed, their selfishness, their egotism. They had said things that they would never have dreamed of saying. They _threatened_ their nephews twice. And Bilbo…Bilbo hurt Kili. They were so consumed in themselves that they had failed to see what they were doing to the others.

“This is all my fault.” Thorin’s voice was barely there, a whisper against the wind.

“You didn’t know that this would happen.” Bilbo said hoarsely, mind still wrapping around everything they had done. _Kili_ …

“But it did. It did. It…did.” His arms tightened around him.

“And we can’t do anything about that now, can we?”

Thorin looked up at him, eyes the image of a broken man. “But I did so many horrible things to everyone, to Fili and Kili.”

“We both did. But what’s done is done. We have to…we have to do whatever it takes to not be them again. We can’t change what we’ve done. We need to do all we can for everyone in the present, in the here and now. Let them forgive us for what we do now.” Bilbo said as steadily as he could. He was trying to believe his own words, believe that they could make up for all the horrible things they had done. He didn’t want to go back to that…that darkness. Never again. He would never forgive himself for the things he had done to Fili and Kili.  

Thorin lowered his head, staring at a single spot on Bilbo’s coat. He stood up to his full height, resolution between his brows. “You’re right. We fix this now.”

“There’s my dwarf.” He whispered, running his hand down the king’s cheek.

What happened under the dragon sickness would never be forgotten between them. Their greed and selfishness would remain in their minds until the day they died. But they couldn’t change any of the things they had done. And as much as Bilbo wanted to change the past, he couldn’t. What they could do was fix their mistakes, redeem themselves. They had no time to wallow, no time to regret.

Right now, they had a war to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho. Ho. Ho. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> The English major in me wanted to say that there are a lot of things you could analyze in this chapter. Like Fili and Kili's character development, if Bilbo even had the dragon sickness, Thorin and Bilbo's post-coital conversation (it seemed relatively normal, didn't it?), and their final conversation of the chapter. 
> 
> I just had to say that because I was curious throughout even though I wrote the damn thing. 
> 
> And apparently sex scenes will always be the bane of my existence 
> 
> Next Chapter: The Battle of the Five Armies


	16. Ashes, Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We must no more ask whether the soul and body are one than ask whether the wax and the figure impressed on it are one." - Aristotle

Bilbo slowly followed behind Thorin as they made their way back towards the others. The dwarf had forgone his kingly attire, choosing instead to go for something more maneuverable and breathable. Dain was fighting out there against the Goblins and Orcs and Thorin wasn’t going to just stand by and let him die. The Elves were at the gates as well but calling them friend wasn’t on his agenda at the moment. They hadn’t of planned for Azog’s interference, having thought that the orc had better things to do. They were obviously wrong.

It was their fault that they weren’t out there sooner. The dragon sickness had warped Thorin’s caution into a web of greed and egocentricity. Dwarven corpses would be on their hands if they didn’t act soon. It was all their fault.

Bilbo took in a deep breath, shaking himself of his guilt. He couldn’t dwell on it much at this moment. There would be time to grieve and wallow later. They had things to do that were much more important.

Or, at least, that’s what Bilbo wanted to believe. Perhaps he was making up an excuse to face his mistakes later or try to deny them all together. He was ashamed of what he had done, he knew that, but he didn’t exactly know how to deal with it. How was he going to apologize to everyone? Would they even want his apology? Would Kili be afraid of him? Would he cringe at every one of his touches? Would he not love his uncle anymore?

Thorin stopped in front of him, turning around to face him. He brought a gloved hand up to run through his curls, spreading warmth across their bond. “Their loyalty to us is the stuff of legends. I know they will forgive us.”

Bilbo smiled faintly. “I don’t know if _I_ can forgive us.”

His soulmate looked away, eyes finding something in the distance. “We have more important things to think about right now.”

He nodded, pushing the dwarf forward so that he would start moving.

They returned to the others who were sitting dejectedly, chagrined by the fact that they couldn’t assist their brethren, answer their pleas. As the two moved closer, Fili and Kili rose up, lips itching to say something. Finally, Kili did, moving forward with rage in his eyes.

“I will not hide behind a wall of stone while others fight our battles for us!” He shouted, voice echoing across the cosmos. “It is not in my blood, Thorin.”

Even with all that bravado and courage, Kili couldn’t hide the tremble in his shoulders, the fear in his eyes. He was still reeling from all that had come upon them, the changes in everyone. His neck was a blatant reminder of everything that had happened, a dagger at both Bilbo and Thorin.   

His uncle stepped forward, silently, eyes committing the dwarf’s face to memory, an apology bleeding from his lips. “No. It is not. We are sons of Durin and Durin’s folk do not flee from a fight.”

Thorin’s raised his hand slowly, gauging Kili’s response to it. The archer’s shoulders had tensed but he ultimately didn’t pull away. Encouraged, the king touched his shoulder, the young dwarf slipping into a broken smile. Thorin’s hand slid upward, cradling the back of his head. He pressed their foreheads together, eyes fluttering closed as he tried to convey all the apologies and sorrowed words he could to his young nephew.

Bilbo received it instead, hands gently running down Fili’s cheeks. The blonde smiled sweetly, a breathy laugh falling from his lips.

With a deep sigh, Thorin moved past his nephew and towards his loyal companions. “I have no right to ask this of you. But will you follow me one last time?”

Their answer was something that brought tears to Bilbo’s eyes. Each member stood, weapon brandished in their hand. Their weariness fell from their shoulders replaced by a renewed determination and an unwavering devotion to their king. The bond flooded Thorin’s gratitude and happiness into him, bringing a smile to his face.

They didn’t deserve any of this.

* * *

 

Adrenalin surged within Bilbo the moment the golden bell toppled their barricade. He unsheathed his sword, ready to strike at any goblin or orc in his path and ready to defend all the dwarves risking their lives for them. However, something stopped him in his tracks, some ominous foreboding fear that left his knees slightly shaking.

Thorin ran up to him with Fili and Kili in tow. His sword was shimmering beneath the sun’s fresh light, reflecting onto the ground. “Bilbo! Stay here with Kili.”

“What?” They both exclaimed, eyes widening in disbelief.

“We need all the support we can.” Thorin said hurriedly, sharing a glance with Fili.

Kili caught on a lot sooner than the hobbit, betrayal at his brow. “Uncle, you can’t—”

Then, it finally clicked within Bilbo and his mouth dropped open. “Oh, Thorin Oakenshield, you stubborn oaf of an idiotic—”

The king pressed a quick kiss to his lips before saying, “Stay safe.”

Bilbo watched dumbfounded as Thorin ran to the head of the company, Fili following behind him. They charged into the battle, shouts in Khuzdul raining into the air. Dain’s voice was heard above all others, shouting to rally around their king. Swords and shields clattered together as they clashed with the orcs’. The sun blocked much of Bilbo’s vision of the horizon, losing sight of his soulmate in the throngs of battle.

“He doesn’t actually expect us to just stand here, right?” He huffed out, throwing his hands into the air.

That idiot. Did he actually think that he could hide anything from Bilbo? He knew the real reason the stupid dwarf wanted him to be “support”. He wasn’t born yesterday. He didn’t need the bond to tell him why though it was very helpful. Thorin was afraid that he might get hurt or die. One would think that after everything they had gone through, the dwarf would have more confidence in his skills. But no. He was being an over-protective future-husband.

One glance at Fili’s face had also told him that the young heir had convinced his uncle to leave Kili with him. Neither of them wanted them to get hurt but it was stupid to think that this was the best way to keep anything from happening. Bilbo had to admit that he felt flattered by the fact that the king was so concerned for his safety but he was too angry to care at the moment. He was perfectly capable of handling himself, thank you very much. He didn’t need—

“Come on, Uncle Bilbo!” Kili shouted, bouncing on his heels. He was moving towards the fight, eyes shining with excitement.

“Right!” He brandished his sword but lowered it slightly as he thought back to his previous wrongdoings. “Actually, Kili…”

His soon-to-be-nephew stopped shortly, turning back to him curiously. “What is it?”

“Now, that I have you, I wanted to apologize for everything Thorin and I had done to you and your brother while under the dragon sickness. I don’t know how we can ever make it up to you. I-I-I hurt you. And I can’t…I-I…”  He stepped forward, hesitantly running his hand over Kili’s bruises. Tears bubbled in his eyes and he struggled to contain them, a shaky breath falling from his lips.

 “Having you and Uncle back to your normal selves is more than enough for us. We missed you.” The young dwarf smiled so brightly that Bilbo could have sworn he saw the sun. Kili took his hand away, squeezing it before lowering it. The hobbit nearly fell to his knees the moment the archer leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Come on. We have a battle to win.”

The two emerged into the fight, swords clashing with whoever dared to challenge them. They stayed close together, watching each other’s back with a methodical ingenuity. Bilbo’s eyes flickered over every dwarf and ally but he couldn’t spot Thorin or Fili in the crowd. He found Dain fighting three orcs at once, laughing into each kill. The Ur dwarves were making easy work of the goblins, casually cutting each down. Dori, Nori and Ori were in their own section, throwing enemies between them like it was a game. Surprisingly, Dwalin was nowhere near them and Bilbo struggled to find the bald dwarf anywhere in the throng.

He must have been with Thorin and Fili but for the life of him Bilbo couldn’t find them anywhere. His concentration was divided between physically searching for his soulmate, defending himself against attacks and keeping Kili safe beside him. He could barely feel the bond between them because of everything he had to do and he only needed a moment’s rest to pinpoint his location.

Balin had made his way over to the two, quickly dispensing of orcs and goblins in his way despite his old age. He gave Kili a pat on the shoulder and Bilbo a nod before assisting them with the enemies around them.

“Where’s Uncle and Fili?” The archer shouted, slicing a goblin in two.

“They and Dwalin—”

_Rams. Ravenhill. Azog._

Bilbo’s eyes fluttered before he yelled out, “They’re going after Azog?”

His gaze went skyward and towards the ruined spire. He barely caught sight of Thorin, Fili and Dwalin riding towards the command center. A panic immediately set in and Bilbo struggled to keep his worries at bay. No. No. No. Thorin needed to focus. And to do that Bilbo needed to calm down.

“Let’s go, little wolf.” The hobbit smiled, pointing his sword towards Azog.

His nephew nodded, determination and adrenaline making him giddy.

They were going to go help their boys.

 

They arrived at the frozen waterfall out of breath and fuming from the orcs they had to cut through to get there. Thorin had his back to them, gaze fixed on a tall, derelict structure just past the ice-covered lake. His shoulders were rising and falling slowly, tension affecting his posture. His sword was close at his side, fingers curled tightly around the hilt. He bled caution but he ultimately looked unharmed.

“Thorin Oakenshield, I am going to have some words with you!” Bilbo huffed out, stomping towards him.

The king turned around sharply, brows knitting in confusion. “I thought I told you to—”

“Did you really expect us to listen?” He sighed and the dwarf shrugged. “Where are Fili and Dwalin?”

“I sent them—well, Fili insisted upon scouting the tower. I was against it but Dwalin had said that he would go with him.” Thorin’s lips had drawn themselves into a tight line, gaze falling downward.

Bilbo barely had any time to reach out to his soulmate before a loud, ear-piercing roar cut the air. Three pairs of eyes went to the ruined spire, finding Azog and his minions emerging from the dust. Dragged alone behind the white orc was none other than Fili, struggling against his grip. Thorin immediately stepped forward, stopping in his tracks the moment he realized he was unable to do anything. Bilbo’s hand found Kili, holding his arm tightly as panic fueled his veins.

_They weren’t going to—_

_No not Fili. Not his boy_

_Anything but that_

Bilbo’s lips trembled as Azog’s voice threw itself into the air like a showy explosion. He spoke in the tongue of orcs, words nothing more than harsh inflections to the three. But they all knew what he was saying. He was boasting, bragging about how he was going to kill Fili and then the others, end the line of Durin.

He raised Fili up, a sinister grin stretched across his horrid face.

The young dwarf, while eyes petrified, shouted, “Go! Run!”

Azog’s sword-hand found its mark at Fili’s stomach, piercing it with a sound Bilbo would forever commit to memory. The dwarf’s lips fell open, bright blue orbs fluttering. Kili yelled out, Thorin and Bilbo frozen in shock. The orc slowly let the young dwarf slide from his sword, finally plummeting to his doom.

_“Took my boy away_

_Killed him_

_Killed my little lion_

_Won’t stand for it_

_Won’t run_

_Won’t hide_

_Ends now”_

However, a few floors before he hit the ground, Dwalin emerged from the depths of the spire, catching the injured dwarf. He stumbled slightly, arms most likely feeling the brunt of the fall. He locked eyes with Thorin before hurrying back into the tower, effectively disappearing from both their and Azog’s sight.

Bilbo felt his whole world come undone before him. Kili was at his side, hands balled into fists and eyes shimmering with tears for his fallen brother. Thorin hadn’t moved from his spot, back still to them. Bilbo could feel it, the anger, the rage, the regret, the grief. Thorin’s shoulders ached with the thought of revenge, thoughts swarming with thousands of ways to kill Azog.

Bilbo’s hands struggled against Kili. They felt far off, distant. He stumbled slightly as his mind finally noticed the cold biting at his toes, his legs, his bones. He was frigid, devoid of any source of Fili. That warmth was gone. Whatever was left of it was somewhere in Dwalin’s arms, flickering into nonexistence.

Thorin’s grief was too much for him, causing his eyes to flutter with memories of the young heir. His first steps. His first smile. His first laugh. The first time he said Thorin’s name. His first time holding a sword. The first time Thorin had been proud of him.

Tears fell from Bilbo’s eyes the moment the king raised his sword, pointing it at Azog. The defiler smirked, disappearing into the depths of the tower. Thorin let out a low growl before charging in after him, throwing himself onto the ice and towards the demon that had taken his boy away. Bilbo reached out for him but it was useless. He was already gone.

“Uncle Bilbo, I—” Kili’s voice broke but he didn’t need to finish.

_Want to go help him_

The hobbit smiled sadly, drawing his sword as he straightened up.

Grieving would come later.

Just as the duo began to move towards the frozen lake, orcs came tumbling from the hills, running at them like lions to meat. Bilbo barely had a chance to react as one of them came at him, sword meeting sword. Kili had sprung into action, cutting down as many as he could.

Bilbo shook his sorrow away in favor of adopting a fiery rage that could melt metal. These _things_ were keeping him from his soulmate, keeping him from making sure he was safe. He would eradicate an entire species if it meant saving Thorin. No one else was going to die. No one would see pain. No one would see grief.

As the orcs came flooding endlessly from the hills, flashes of another battle flitted through Bilbo’s vision. Orc upon orc were running towards him on a frozen lake, getting torn apart by an elven archer. Those that did come near were easily thrown down by his sword. But he wasn’t doing any of this. This must have been Thorin further ahead. Azog was moving towards him, a ball and chain swinging playfully at his arm.

The image fell away suddenly, replacing itself with reality. An orc would have cut his arm off had it not been for Kili’s timely intervention. Bilbo took in a deep breath, eyes flickering over the mass of orcs coming at them. Would this have no end?

“Are you ok?” He heard the archer shout.

“It-it’s Thorin. He—”

The vision flared back into existence, showing the tower the elven archer had been perched atop fall to the ground. Bilbo could even hear its impact from here. Orcs were driving Thorin further and further towards the edge of the lake, Azog laughing as he bellowed out that he would find Kili next. Bilbo had no idea if that elven archer was still alive, praying that he would save his soulmate.

He blinked and he was back. He parried an orc’s attack, stumbling backwards from the impact. He thrust his sword forward, cutting into its stomach. It fell to the ground and Bilbo took in several deep breaths as he reigned in his mind and settled his emotions. Focus. Focus. Do not drift.

Suddenly, Bilbo let out a pained yell, throwing his shoulder back as he felt a sword slice through his skin. He staggered, turning his head towards the injury. But there was none. No blood, no sword.

“Thorin’s hurt!” He huffed out, defeated three orcs who had dared to come towards him.

Luckily, the swarm of orcs seemed to thin, allowing them a little more breathing room. Bodies piled themselves onto the ground and Bilbo could see that the sun had shifted positions. They must have been fighting these enemies for a while, the celestial body passing over noon. That also meant there must have been hundreds of orcs everywhere given the fact that the battle below them hadn’t ceased either.

Another pack of the demons littered onto their position and Bilbo let out a tired sigh as he brought his sword back up. Flashes of orcrist flinging itself onto an orc above Thorin wandered into view. Thorin turned his head to see the archer—Legolas below him, fighting his own share of the enemy. Before the dead orc could fall down the edge, the king pulled orcrist from it, blade shining under the light. He stood, brandishing the weapon easily. Azog frowned, moving towards him, ball and chain swinging violently beside him.

Bilbo let out a gasp as the image ended, sword finding an orc’s neck. He scanned their surroundings, trying to find where the dwarf-king was located. He noticed the absence of the tower Legolas had been atop and started moving in that direction. Orcs moved to stop him but he attacked and attacked until there were none left. No one was keeping him from his soulmate.

Then, a sword plunged itself into his stomach, drawing a yell of pain from his lips. Bilbo fell backwards, a seething agony spreading through his entire body. He dropped to the ground, sting tumbling from his grasp. He gritted his teeth as red filled his vision. Shaky hands came over the wound to confirm what he already knew.

It wasn’t Bilbo who was hurt.

He shot up, vision swimming. He felt lightheaded, stomach aching even though he wasn’t injured. He caught sight of Kili who was running towards him in concern, orcs all defeated. Bilbo groaned, pushing away from the young archer’s touch and towards the icy lake. He stumbled against a rock but kept going, eyes searching and searching for his soulmate.

He found him a little ways away, lying in his own pool of blood, Azog dead just feet from him. Bilbo ran as fast as he could, tired legs carrying him home. He fell to the ground beside Thorin, the dwarf letting out a bloody cough, the red substance dripping down his lips. A wound the size of Bilbo’s arm was at his stomach, blood seeping through his clothes. Another gash was at his shoulder, bleeding just as profusely.

Thorin looked up at him, eyes as wide as the world. “B-Bilbo.”

“Shh, shh, shh.” He staggered out, trembling fingers coming to put pressure to the wound at his stomach. “It-it’s going to be alright. You’re going to be fine.”

“I love you. I love you.” Thorin gasped out, blood spilling from his lips. “You were the best thing to…to…to have happened to me. The world was brighter in your presence.”

Tears fell from Bilbo’s eyes as his dwarf’s hand came up to wrap around his own, blood caked across his gloves. He could feel the king’s pain, the searing agony pooling at his stomach. It made his eyes flutter, tremble his fingertips. “O-Oh don’t you start that. You’ll be fine. We’ll get you patched up.”

“I only wish I had never put you through such-such-such peril.” He wheezed, chest stuttering with air.

“I would follow you to the ends of the earth and back, you stupid oaf.” He cried, bringing a hand up to his face. A slight dizziness fell over Bilbo as Kili ran towards them. The ground spun about him as if he were in a vicious tornado.

“Go back to your armchair and your garden and your books. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above horded gold, it would be a merrier world.” Thorin chortled out, coughs echoing into the breeze.

“No. No. No! You will not leave me, Thorin Oakenshield. I can’t—I can’t live without you. I need you. Please. Please don’t go!” Bilbo sobbed but his eyes fluttered again, that same dizziness passing into his head.

_“Or perhaps, I kill you, I kill him. How far have you gone, thief? Are you still two or now One?”_

Bilbo’s eyes widened in recognition, a soft smile gracing his lips. “You silly dwarf. You go, I go.”

His voice started to drift from him, a blatant wistfulness coming over it. He began to blink slower, breath but a memory. He gently lowered himself to the ground beside his dwarf, hand still at his stomach. He snuggled closer, letting out short puffs of air. He felt as light as a cloud.  

Thorin turned his head slowly, brows weakly thrown together in an attempt to look confusion. Bilbo smiled at that, head lolling to the ground.

“One soul, two bodies.” He breathed as Kili dropped to the ground beside them.

Dwalin was jogging towards them, Fili thrown over his shoulder. The bald dwarf was caked in orc blood, exhaustion in his eyes with a twinge of sadness. He lowered the blond dwarf to the ground, placing him just beside his uncles. Kili’s hand had reached out to touch him, tears pooling in his eyes.

“Together forever,” Bilbo finished, vision darkening at the corner of his eyes.

“ _Ghivashel_ ,” Thorin murmured, eyes fighting to stay open.

Their bond hadn’t translated the word for him, flickering in and out of existence, at the last of its strength.

“Uncle Thorin,” Kili moaned, tears streaming down his face. “Uncle Bilbo. Fili. I can’t do this without you.”

Thorin and Bilbo smiled, eyes finally fluttering closed. “You’ll be a fine king. Make us proud.”

Then, it was dark, a sweet symphony of dwarven songs and hobbit comforts guiding them into the abyss.

* * *

 

Kili stared at the chest in front of him, a deep frown at his lips. Inside of it were none other than the starry white gems Thranduil had gone to war for. It had been Balin’s idea to give them back to him in addition to the share of gold Thorin had promised to the people of Laketown. He had said that it would be best to start mending relations with each species lest they wanted another war at their doorstep.

Kili had to begrudgingly agree, hands settling at the top of the chest. He only hated the fact that he would need to deal with the elf-king directly. Bard, he could handle. There wasn’t much of a rift between dwarves and men but elves were another story. They hadn’t exactly done anything to Kili personally but years of turmoil they had undergone at the hands of elves had been drilled into him as a child.

He only wished Thorin were here to do this.

Kili waited patiently for the elf-king inside of his tent, bouncing from one foot to the other. Thranduil had, after continuous prodding from Gandalf and Bard, begrudgingly taken in the dwarven wounded, boasting about the fact that he had the best healers in all of Middle Earth, The dead, however, would be gathered at another time.

The tent cloths moved, sweeping open to allow Thranduil inside. Bard moved in behind him with another elf in tow. Her hair was like that of fire, drifting down her back like a wash of flames. A green ensemble accented her emerald eyes, making her look as beautiful as a goddess. She regarded him with a cautious gaze, piercing him and stuttering Kili’s heart into motion.

“What might the new king of Erebor want from us?” Thranduil drawled, bright eyes dragging over Kili like a predator assessing its prey.

“I only wish to part on reasonable terms.” He said, biting back a cutting response. He gestured towards the chests before them and man and elf moved towards them slowly.

Bard opened his first, eyes widening as they flickered back to the dwarf. “This is what you had promised us.”

“Think of it as an apology.” He said, trying to put as much effort into his voice as he could. “My uncle hadn’t of been in the soundest of minds when he refused you.”

“Yes, the dragon sickness. Pity he isn’t here to apologize himself.” Thranduil said coldly, gaze drifting down to the chest in front of him. Bard’s hand at his arm made him turn his head. They shared a long look, one that Kili could feel the weight of even from where he was standing. Finally, Thranduil sighed, adding, “I suppose his kingdom could be in more incompetent hands.”

Kili’s hands balled into fists, stiffly nodding towards the chest in front of the king. Thranduil opened it and a slight twitch of his eyebrow was all that changed on his face as he laid his eyes on his long lost jewels. He slowly closed the chest, head held high.

“I suppose you would want to open trade between our two kingdoms?” He asked, voice just as distant as before.

“With Dale as well,” Kili replied.

“It will be so.” Bard said, a slight smile at his lips. His eyes flickered back to the elf-king before adding, “From the _both_ of us.”

Thranduil’s eyebrow twitched again but he said nothing in response to the bowman. “I must say, things appear to be looking up for your domain, Master Dwarf. Perhaps everything is not lost for your species. Perhaps.”

The king turned swiftly, curtains drawing back to allow him passage. Bard gave Kili a respectful nod before following him out. Only the young elf remained and she regarded him with a curious expression.

Kili took in a deep breath. “What is your name?”

She seemed startled to have been spoken to, blinking at him in surprise before regaining her composure. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Thranduil calling after her. “Tauriel!”

Her shoulders lifted slightly and she gave Kili another once over before escaping into the night.

“Tauriel,” He repeated, rolling her name over his tongue like a sweet berry.

* * *

 

Bilbo startled away, eyes flying open and hands grasping at his stomach. He had been injured, stabbed in the stomach by Azog. Where was it? Where was—No, it was Thorin. Thorin had been the one who was wounded. Not him.

At the thought of his soul mate, Bilbo shot up, lungs quickly drawing in and out to ease his mind. His gaze flung about the room, tent fabric fluttering slightly above him. The soothing smell of smoke filled the air and he struggled to wrap his mind around reality. What had happened? Was he dead? He had died, didn’t he? Where was Thorin?

“Peace, dear Bilbo.” A voice said softly.

He looked to his left to find Gandalf seated in a chair, his pipe brimming at his hand. A gentle twinkle was in his eye, a small smile to his lips.

“G-Gandalf?” He breathed out. He turned, moving to get out of bed. However, the wizard quickly held his hand up to stop him. “Where is Thorin? I-Is he—”

“He is quite alright, my dear boy.” The man smiled and all the tension and fear drained from Bilbo almost immediately. “He’ll survive.”

“And Fili?” He dared to ask.

“Stable,”

A nervous laugh escaped Bilbo’s lips and he wrapped his arms around himself. The laugh morphed into something uncontrollable, something near jovial. His shoulders shook plentifully, a wide smile on his face. He brought a hand up to his face in disbelief, tears peeking in through the corners of his eyes.

“But I thought we were going to die. Why did I pass out?” He asked after getting himself under control, wiping his eyes and settling back down.

“Many things transmit themselves between soul mates. Loss of consciousness is one of them. Think of fainting as one’s soul becoming dormant for a short period of time. Should Thorin fall unconscious, you would follow as well.” Gandalf replied smoothly.

“But it felt like we were dying, like life was falling from me. Our bond had seemed weaker, like it was dying too.”

“Because you were,” He replied simply. “Had it not been for the eagles’ timely intervention, you would have surely died. But tell me, do you feel your bond now?”

Bilbo closed his eyes, envisioning his king in all his magnificence, a smile across his face. And there it was, a gentle hum at the back of his mind, peaceful, tranquil and alive. “He’s asleep.”

“As he should be,” Gandalf sighed. “His wounds are serious but we are out of immediate danger.”

“That is good to hear.” Bilbo said, rising out of his bed. “I want to see him.”

“Uncle Bilbo!” Kili shouted, running into the room and jumping onto the hobbit. He wrapped his arms tightly around him and Bilbo laughed as he was thrown back onto the bed. He brought his hands up to rest at the dwarf’s back and let his eyes fall closed as he drank in his nephew’s presence.

It must have been a shock to watch both of his uncles and Fili “die”. Kili would have been left without their love, their smiles. He must have been so scared and afraid to have been unable to do anything. He would have had to have ruled Erebor almost instantly, unprepared and grieving.

“You’re alright, right? Gandalf had said you were but I didn’t really believe him. You don’t look like you’re hurt. Are you—”

“I’m quite alright, little wolf.” Bilbo laughed as Kili pulled away to look him in the eye.

“I-I thought you were going to…” He trailed off, gaze drifting away from him.

Bilbo pressed their foreheads together as he whispered, “I’m ok.”

Kili stayed there for a quiet moment before pulling himself and his uncle out of bed. “I had to give that elven snake his gems back.”

“You…actually did that?” He asked in surprise.

“As acting king of Erebor, I had to for diplomatic reasons. Well, Balin said that I needed to. I also gave Bard his share.”

Bilbo grinned proudly. “That was very kind of you, Kili.”

The young dwarf beamed before taking his uncle’s arm and saying, “Let’s go see Thorin.”

Bilbo nodded before turning to Gandalf. The wizard let out a low chuckle. “It appears I won’t be needing to escort you back to the Shire. Your stay in Erebor will be—”

“Permanent,” He finished for him, earning an excited shake from Kili.

“I’ll see you again before I leave. I promise. It appears we have much to catch up on.” Gandalf smiled, puffing out a long drag of smoke as his eyes drifted over the dwarf’s neck.

Bilbo’s did too, hand rising to touch the marks at his throat. However, before he could, Kili took it. With a tight squeeze, he lowered it, a gentle smile at his lips.

“Let’s go see uncle.”    

 

The duo emerged into Thorin and Fili’s tent. Both dwarves were lying beside each other on identical mattresses. Both were shirtless, allowing the healers easy access to their injuries. The only sounds from them were their steady breathing, pleasant sounds given the fact that they had barely been breathing hours earlier. As Kili and Bilbo moved closer, their wounds became more apparent.

Bilbo had known that Fili had been stabbed in the stomach. Everyone had seen it happen but now he registered more wounds. A long gash ran from beneath his chin and down his chest, just stopping where his collarbone overlapped with it. A round of bandages were around his left arm wrapped as far down as his fingertips. Though, most of the bandages were centered on his lower abdomen, blood peeking through slightly. Had Dwalin not caught him, he may have died instantly upon contact with the ground. Fili owed him his life.

Kili had immediately moved to his brother’s side, taking his hand and smoothing away the hair at his forehead.

Bilbo stepped towards Thorin’s bed, bracing himself for the sight of him. He had already known about the shoulder injury and the stab to his stomach. He had experienced it himself. Even now he was repeatedly telling himself that he hadn’t been the one to get injured. Yes, he felt the pain, experienced it just as Thorin had but it left no lasting damage, no physical marks.

Thorin’s eyes were closed, deep in his dreams. He had bandages just like Fili, keeping his wounds at bay. His complexion was slightly pale but that was understandable. He had lost a lot of blood before the eagles arrived. Ultimately, he appeared ok, safe and sound.

Bilbo’s fingers trembled as he brought them up to the dwarf’s face. Earlier he had believed that Thorin was going to die at Ravenhill. He had never been so terrified in all of his life. He had thought that he was going to watch him die, watch their bond snap just like that. He would be empty, broken, without a purpose. But Smaug’s previous words to him had somehow found themselves back to him. If one part of a soul died, the rest of it followed.

In that moment, Bilbo should have been afraid of dying. But, strangely, he wasn’t. He had been more at peace than he had been petrified. He knew Thorin would be waiting for him wherever they’d end up. He wouldn’t be alone. They’d live on in the afterlife together, watching Kili rule Erebor proudly. No sadness nor pain would follow them, only their love and devotion. In that, Bilbo thought he was going to heaven, a paradise made only for him.

But they didn’t die. There were still here, in the mortal plane, and Bilbo thanked Mahal that everyone was alright. Fili was still alive. The other members of the company had come out with minor nicks and scratches and, according to Kili, things had gone well with the elves and men. Perhaps Bilbo was really in heaven and everything was going the way he wanted it to.

If so, may he never leave.

The bond jostled itself into motion and Thorin began to move, face twitching as he regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open and Bilbo could have sworn that the world had just gotten brighter. Thorin’s steely blues regarded him with a sweet warmth tinged with confusion. At least his awakening was a lot let violent than Bilbo’s. He was surprised he hadn’t broken an arm in all that fussing.

“Where are we?” His voice was slightly hoarse and he attempted to clear his throat which ultimately erupted into a fit of coughs.

“Tents in the elven camp,” At the frown that formed, Bilbo added, “You’d be dead if it weren’t for them. Actually, we’d _both_ be dead.”

“That’s the problem.” He said gravelly. “I don’t want to be indebted to…to _elves_.”

“Too bad. Kili had already given them the gems that they wanted.”

Thorin rolled his eyes but didn’t exactly complain.

The young archer in question exclaimed, “It was Balin’s idea!”

“Fili?”

“He’s right beside you.” The king turned instantly and Bilbo quickly helped him see his nephew without injuring himself any further. At the slight panic that bubbled into his mind, he added, “He’s going to be just fine.”

“Thank Mahal.” Thorin whispered.

Bilbo smiled, carting his hand through his dwarf’s hair. “How are you feeling?”

The king let out a long sigh, rolling his good shoulder as he leaned into the touch. “I hurt but that is a thousand times better than being dead. My boys are both alive and my soulmate is completely fine. Everything is wonderful.”

Bilbo leaned down, touching their foreheads together. “Everything is wonderful.”

“Are you ready to be my future consort?” Thorin whispered, hand coming up to rest at the back of his neck.

The hobbit laughed. “I was born ready.”

* * *

 

It had been a few months since Frodo’s parents had died. They had drowned in an accident, leaving him an orphan and on his own. He was never the same after that. A void was in his heart, a loneliness that knew no bounds. People tried to comfort him, give him words of love and sympathy but they carried no weight. Those people didn’t understand what he was going through.

Before his parents died, Frodo had dreamed of adventure and excitement, things any romantic would think of. But after they left him, reality was all that remained. A cold solitude had touched his shoulders and nothing on this earth would shake it off. He’d hear people whisper about him, about the boy who didn’t smile. But he didn’t care. They had their own lives and if delving into his own was entertaining then, delve away.

However, on the day that he was told his uncle Bilbo Baggins would arrive to fetch him, a small spark of excitement touched his mind. He had heard of this Baggins who acted more like a Took than anyone else. He had run off with some dwarves many years ago with talks about reclaiming the Lonely Mountain. That had been the adventure Frodo wanted.

A year after he departed, news of his quest’s success soon travelled over the rest of Middle Earth. He had returned to the Shire to collect some of his belongings and put Bag End in the care of Hamfast Gamgee. However, to everyone’s surprise, he didn’t stay and rumor of his marriage to a King under the Mountain soon filled the village. They had wondered at his respectability, reminding Frodo of what they had done to himself. And, after hearing about Bilbo’s marriage to a king, that excitement came roaring back.  

Right now he was sitting in Bag End, waiting for the hobbit’s arrival. Much of the house was empty save for a few knickknacks and paperweights and Hamfast would usually tidy up once a week in addition to regularly maintaining Mr. Baggins’ garden. That had been while Frodo lived in Brandyhall and he was moved to Bag End a few days before Bilbo’s expected arrival.

Sam and Hamfast had visited to make sure he was comfortable and they would regularly bring him meals to make him feel welcomed. With each passing day, that feeling of adventure only increased in weight. His curiosity had returned to him, making him wonder about who Bilbo had married and what dwarves were really like. What did Erebor look like? What would it be like there?

A steady knock at the door startled the young hobbit and he stood up nervously. This was the moment he was waiting for, excitement bubbling within him. His nervousness was practically going to tear him apart. But this was an amazing feeling, one that reminded him of happier days. Adventure was out there and right now it was right outside his door.

He swung it open, blinking in surprise at the group of people standing before him.

Two people stood at the head of the group with others trailing behind them. The person to Frodo’s left was unmistakably a dwarf, tall in stature and rugged in appearance. He had dark black hair with spools of silver tucked in between. It draped itself over his shoulders, cascading down his back like a waterfall of night. A great beard touched his chin and his eyes were the color of a midmorning sky. A magnificence fell effortlessly over him and Frodo had the urge to kneel before him. He held himself with a regality that belonged only to a king and this couldn’t have been none other than Thorin II Oakenshield, King under the Mountain.

Beside him stood a hobbit, smiling from ear to ear. Chestnut colored hair was thrown about his head in the form of curls, intricate braids and beads threaded between them. He wore clothes that weren’t of hobbit-y nature, robes the color of a lush forest. He stood tall and proud, no shame or pain evident in his posture. The title of Consort under the Mountain floated about him naturally. This couldn’t have been his uncle. He looked nothing like a respectable hobbit. But, that was all the more reason to be excited for his arrival.

Behind them were two bouncing dwarves, eager to look around them and to Frodo. They appeared to be younger than Thorin, more energetic. One had dark colored hair similar to the dwarf in front of him while the other had hair the color of wheat, the latter with a scar running down his neck. And behind them were ten other dwarves, lining the stairs down. Each and every one of them had enthusiasm in their eyes and they were all on Frodo.

These people had come here just for him. This was the first time after his parents died that Frodo felt loved. He had just met these people but for some reason, his heart swelled with joy. They had travelled such a long distance just to take him to Erebor. They could have simply sent one or two emissaries and a few horses to fetch him but Bilbo had personally come to get him. And he didn’t come alone. Each member of the famous company of Thorin Oakenshield had come with him. Their king, the dwarf who had led them to victory in the Battle of the Five Armies and the dwarf who had reclaimed the Lonely Mountain when others had called it a suicide mission, stood just outside his door.

“Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins at your service, young Master Hobbit.” The king said, lips curling upward. They both gave a short bow, moving in sync like clockwork.

“Hello, Frodo.” Bilbo said softly, a touch of amusement in his voice.  

And, for the first time in months, Frodo smiled.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are done! The Wax and The Figure is finished. I don't know what I'm going to do after this. Maybe I'll actually finish All I Want or maybe I'll start something completely new. I already have something in mind and, at least to me, it's interesting. If I were to write a sequel it would probably be around 8 or so chapters but I haven't decided yet. 
> 
> Thank you for all the support and kudos. All my hiatuses weren't great but ultimately I finished it all! Actually, the comments brought me back to this story. I wanted to finish it for all of you.
> 
> Thank you for joining me in this adventure. 
> 
> Vinci


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